a haircut from gruzia

The replay of the World Cup final sounded in the background. One of the barbers was asleep on a chair by the window. Left from me somebody was getting a haircut by this older guy who looks like a movie star from the 50ís. He and my hair dresser had interrupted their game of backgammon to deal with us. It was the Spanish station. Goooooooooool, gooooooooooooooool, gooooool... I was getting a haircut much shorter than ever. My hair is now so short that I barely recognize myself in the mirror. Probably not quite as bad as the one time in Toronto, but pretty bad. Gooool, Goooooooooooool, goooooooooool....
The left side of my head seems to be smaller than the right side. I had no idea. Maybe it grew this way over the years. No wonder I am all left sided. Left handed, doing the things I do. My vision is still pretty blurry. My thoughts are too. My Barber was from Gruzia. He gave me his haircut. I appreciate it.

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on June 30, 2002 6:02 PM.

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