Exactly once a week, men and women deceive themselves, exactly one Friday a week, every Friday. In this social world of us, functional rather than vocational, women and men uniformely cheer up their spirits once a week, every Friday. It is remarkable how much we deceive ourselves, how much we get our visions and consciences wrong. We get as much close on Friday as distant on Monday; it is the touch that today attracts and tomorrow will repel.
Here you have this girl, M., bad-tempered, good-hearted, maybe, impulsive, short-talker, who speaks in streams of languages -up to six- on Friday. Here, you have E., entrenched behind a desk and a pile of messy stuff during the week, but opening like a the flower of lotto to welcome the night... On Friday. Every Friday we abandon ourselves in the choking arms of the very same illusions.
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If I see one doing it, I like her. It looks so sexy a woman with that standing style; with her feet crossed in that attractive manner, a truly British mark. Do you know what I mean? I remember from my days in school my English book with drawings of a girl always standing, and always with her feet crossed in that appealing manner: Mary is puzzled, Mary is excited, Mary is in love... Always a crossing-foot style for any feeling. Such a view: a long pair of lengs, wrapped in a stylish sort of tight-fitting pants, resting on a quite personal pair of British shoes, wearing a couple of crossed feet.
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