A Mass of Odds and Ends

Three times a week I and other beautiful lissom young things exercise in a (mirror-free) gym run by a stoic German woman called Sabina who has survived many hardships in the last few months, a long dramatic story involving a doomed house (site of a brutal double murder four years ago - oh yes, everything happens here), rival gym instructors and the carabinieri. Another time, perhaps. Recently we noticed that the ages on our identity documents were beginning to intrude on our general flexibility and we needed some yoga. Twilight, intrigued in an offhand feline way by the idea of a species that can’t lick its navel with a leg thrown casually behind its ear, gave yoga a brief thought before shuddering with disgust at our clumsiness.