La Famme Sam

This is Samira Khogani (she now goes by Sam). In her native Pashto her name means Early Morning Fragrance or Is Good with Words or Entertaining Companion. We met downtown for tea (Sam doesn't drink coffee) she got Misty Mint, I got Early Gray and she told me her story: Sam comes from a very conservative family from the very conservative Panjwayi district and  many of her uncles and cousins (of which she has plenty) are close to Abdul Hakim Ishaqzai. At a family function, a while back, Samira was alone on the terrace with her cousin Taahir who asked her to lift her hijab a little so he could see her hair. Samira giggled and showed off a lock of raven-black. At another family reunion Taahir (by now with an important job with the group) told her a that he thinks of her while he masturbates. 

The next day Taahir received a message with an audio attachment where he could be heard saying that he thinks of Samira while masturbating and you could hear Samira giggle. 

The next day Samira was stopped on her way to the market by men in a black Suzuki Tactical who confiscated her mobile phone. 

The next day Taahir received another message with an audio attachment where he could be heard saying that he thinks of Samira while  masturbating and you could hear Samira giggle. 

The next day Taahir called and asked Samira what she wanted. She said she wanted a passport with a visa for Canada, an airplane ticket to Toronto and some money. 

The next day men in a black Suzuki Tactical came to Samira's house with a large envelope and took her to the Kabul Airport.

Sam now runs a successful downtown Kosher Dry Cleaner and is enrolled at the U of T in Sociology and Women and Gender Studies. She told me to use her real name, this the real Sam, yeah?!

Line Ninety-Four

Bus Line Ninety-Four goes from Ossington (twenty-seventh most used of seventy-five Toronto Transit Authority subway stops) to Castle Frank (twelfth least used) with an alternate ending at Wellesley (thirty-ninth most used). It spans 3.11 miles (exactly five kilometers). In a rational world Line Ninety-Four wouldn't exist, as connecting two down-town subway stations by a bus line is plainly ridiculous. The only reason for a Line Ninety-Four is that Mr. K. T. Fields (the illegitimate son of the Archbishop of Gaast) wants it. Fields is the omnipotent, mysterious master of the Secret Sudden Start and Stop Society (S-S-S-S-S); they start or stops things just because they can. They used to put things on top of other things but they stopped as they run out (of things) and they also thought it to be, frankly, a bit silly. Now, daily, about thirty nine thousand seven hundred people kiss their butt by buying tickets and listen to bizarre public service announcements.

Salèe Ekaterina de Tholsmski (AI Version)

The author of what you see below is ChatGPT, an Artificial Intelligence facility, that I instructed to rework my blog entry in a humorous, old-fashioned style. Inexplicably them changed it to a first-person account. I am happy to hear your thoughts after you compare our respective versions.

Greetings, it is I, Salèe, a fair maiden of yore who passed from this world some six hundred and ninety-three years ago.

In this tapestry, I am depicted handling trinkets above a chest, though it is unclear if I am adding to or taking from its contents. The esteemed "Groupe Saint-Pierre" claims I am putting in, while the renowned "Formation Précise" maintains that I am taking out. The debate has turned vicious, with each side accusing the other of falsehoods. The "Friends of Medieval Annals Society" grew tired of the bickering and stopped attending meetings altogether. That is when a group of post-PhD fellows and I took it upon ourselves to delve into the original documents to uncover the truth. And lo and behold, we discovered a statement of great wisdom and insight in one of my own dissertations: us Medievals, who predate Heisenberg by many a year, believed that two states may not be mutually exclusive, but can both be true alternatively or simultaneously, or even uncertain or indifferent. Upon presenting our findings, the warring factions joined forces to revile us with the most vulgar of language and even made suggestions of the most absurd and depraved acts. And so it goes, when all one wishes for is a bit of camaraderie. Salèe out.

Salèe Ekaterina de Tholsmski

This is Salèe, I never knew her as she died six hundred and ninety-three years before I was born.

In this tapestry, she is handling jewelry over an open chest but it is unclear (hence the controversy) if she is taking from or returning to the box. The powerful "Groupe Saint-Pierre" adamantly, vociferously insists that she puts in. Equally intensely, the influential "Formation Précise" holds and supports the view that she takes out. Unfortunately, the scientific debate has degenerated into a violent war of words, and accusations of fake facts. Members of the "Friends of Medieval Annals Society", disgusted by the spectacle, stopped coming to the meetings. That is when my group of post-PhD fellows went back to the original documents (some in Latin others in ancient Provençal) to get to the truth. In one of Salèe's own dissertations, we found a statement of amazing wisdom and unreal insight: the Medievals (predating Heisenberg by about six hundred years) posit that two states may not necessarily be exclusive, rather both can be true alternatively or simultaneously or even uncertain or indifferent. Presented with these conclusions the two warring factions in sudden alliance, abused us in most foul language (even suggesting absurd, unnatural, and depraved sexual acts). So much for everybody just getting along. Love you Salèe, you the best!

Sept Rue Saint-Catherine

This is 7 Rue Saint-Catherine in Avignon where I spent some time buying shoes. At one of the many long and pleasant dinners with my friends Stephanie et Julien, after the second desert, before the third Cognac, they told the story of how our street got its name. Apparently, on her way back from Vallon-Pont-d'Arc to Siena, city of her destiny, the (not yet Saint) Catherine was traveling under protection. Her protector was the warrior Archangel Michael who appeared at her side and said: "Ç'a va bien, Cat?" He could call her that as he watched her once brushing her teeth. She replied "Oui, et toi, Mitch?" She could call him that as they have known each other for a long time. They walked for a while and then she asked "Perhaps you know, Mitch, what time it may be?". He looked at her perfect face and at her long, slim, graceful limbs and replied "Perhaps, Cat, it may be time to buy a watch". Julien then added that, according to legend, this conversation happened just down the road from us, a place they call Place de l'Horloge.

B Flat

This is Nadja von der Vogelwalde (don't bother asking: yes, she is a direct descendant of Walther). The New York Recorder called her brilliant, most imaginative, and the brightest composer of her generation. Her creativity is heliofrenospastic which means that she works non-stop in her mind. At home, washing dishes, walking, running, biking, at the gym, at the store, everywhere and every moment Nadja composes music, she's deep in her current project. So when she sits down at her piano or laptop, the music just comes out complete, ready, and perfect. (Mozart was a heliofrenospast as am I) we don't write-review-re-write-re-review and leave it for weeks or months, no, we have it all. From early on Nadja was first in everything: winning deals, awards and competitions everywhere she went. She also has a sense of scale: no smallish sonatas or three-minute commissions for the local symphony, but symphonies and concertos, large works (like her idols Berlioz and Mahler), she is fierce and fearless, that's how Nadja is. Her favorite scale is B Flat Major (like Schubert's Impromptu Nr. 3 and Bach's Brandenburg Concerto Nr. 6), this and being tall, slim and dark earned her the nickname Clarinet (musician joke, I don't expect y'all to get it). Her favorite meal is seared foie gras on toast with a glass of well-chilled Sauternes. One night when we walked through the city and her stilettos became uncomfortable she took them off ... she B Flat ... 

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* graphite and watercolor on bond paper, private collection Toronto 

Helena G.

This is Helena, she's clever with a devastatingly quick wit. A while ago we stood outside a downtown bar sharing a joint and started talking about languages. Turned out we were even: three "fluent", two "very good", other two "getting by" and then two more "some". According to the International Polyglot Assoc. (Unit 2B, 512 S Sage Ave, Mobile, AL 36606, US), we are "Speaks Several Languages", far from the lofty "Cert. Polyglot". I told Helena of my first day of learning German (I was eleven and it ended in a fistfight) and she told me her first day of learning French (she was six). Mademoiselle Ferrand asked if someone can say something in French and Helena went like "me, me, me, me, me, me, me!" and getting the nod she said "Laisse mes mains sur tes hanches". 

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Mademoiselle Ferrand immediately demanded to know who said that and when Helena said that it was Adamo, Mademoiselle Ferrand told her that he is a pervert and she should stay away from him. Funny things happen when you learn  languages from your parent's record collection. Helena works now for The United Fruitgumm Co. where she writes copy and does translations in Portuguese, Turkish and Spanish, sometimes her colleagues hear her in her cubicle singing softly "Tombe la Neige" or "Viens, viens ma Brune". Helena finds herself strangely attracted to sardines, she has  currently no pets as she cannot decide if cat or dog, but whatever she's gonna get will be called Iphigenia. 

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* graphite and watercolor on paper, private collection, Toronto