Adventures con velas, and other things.

Check me out, I shop at Walmart!

The above bill of sale, good for something in excess of a benjie (~0 Bitcoin, rounded to the closest integer) covers no less than 16 kilograms of... of... velas (which in Spanish meeans candles). Because that's how shopping goes, what can I tell you.

I also bought a bunch of agate slices, polished semiprecious stones etcetera at a little specialist shop. They sadly didn't have fine grained pirite, or I'd have bought some of that too. All these, together with the many complicated shells and interesting other objects the ocean of its own free will provides, go towards beautifying my ever complexifying waxdrop altars, because I am an artist at heart. Plus it all looks pretty cool.

To set your mind at ease : I have anal hooks suspended from steel beams and other such needful furnishings & accountrements, to permit a most relaxing and... loosening, shall we say, mystical experience.

Velatorium ftw (which is how the Spanish speakers denote the place where women cry lots and lots and lots).

The local Centre Culturel Francais announced a screening of Un Prophete, which we went to check out. As you can see, absolutely nobody there ; we left soon thereafter because the chairs weren't comfortable, the room wasn't ventilated, and who gives a shit about the French anyway -- not like I don't have a private print of the film not to mention proper cake at home.

The sortie wasn't without benefit, however, because it permitted me to introduce a very genuinely French experience to the girls : there were, in no particular order : a) an abandoned guard's table, with an abandoned croissant by a cup of coffee on it -- because French guards can't even fucking guard their own croissant ; b) an overpowering odour of decaying wood while all sorts of metrosexuals of either gender moved aimlessly up and down narrow corridors fucking around with their phones ; c) nothing of interest whatsoever. If this isn't 100% contemporary France I have no fucking idea what would be.

But who knows, maybe some iliterate schmuck from Tunis shows up on time and makes the whole pile worthwhile.

These are just some things, both above and below, both incomprehensible as improbable, bothering absolutely no-one. Biodiversidad ftw!