Hot shots part deux knife gif windows#

Hot shots part deux knife gif windows#

On our second date, at a nondescript midtown hotel, we stepped naked out onto a tiny balcony with the brown buildings and yellow windows looming up close, and he started to sing “Something’s Coming,” from “West Side Story.” I sang with him, and it reminded me of when we were younger, the way we used to sing together.

In the car, there was a certain way he touched my ear that made me go still. We met on an app, but by a strange-or maybe not-coincidence, he had met you many years ago. I went on a date recently, my first in a while. In the West African Vodun tradition, when a twin dies, the surviving one is expected to carry around an effigy of her, feeding, washing, and putting this little statuette to bed every night, lest the dead twin become angry at being excluded and pull the surviving one to join them. Piontelli also observed the expressive gesture of a Papuan man who held a cigarette between his thumb and ring finger, having severed the pointer and middle after the death of his co-twin. It was the custom there, Piontelli claims, for sets of young twins to carry one of these at all times, using it as a leash to each other and eating their meals from its cavities until the age of seven, when the object would be broken in two and each twin could go their own way. But, really, what form could be? We could look to the “oblong terracotta object with rounded angles and two cavities at each end” that Alessandra Piontelli, an Italian psychotherapist, observed a pair of five-year-olds holding in a West African village in 2000. Whereas this task is gnawing at me.īrief, bounded, securely valedictory, as a form the wedding speech is perhaps not well suited to the twin relationship, which is both totalizing and ambivalent. I was anxious about standing up in front of people, but the actual writing of the speech was not difficult I was able to see, clearly enough, my friend and our shared history, the shape of it, and the words came easily in the hours before the rehearsal dinner. Earlier this year, I gave a toast at an old friend’s wedding. Be funny, but don’t overdo it be heartfelt, but don’t get too heavy. But no: you have asked me to give you away. Ten years ago, at my wedding to N., Mom and Dad walked me down the aisle together, one on either side of me. “Batshit in love” is how you described it a few months later, standing in my kitchen. You met that first summer of COVID, through the friend whose place you were staying at to get a break from staying at mine. I like his way of glancing off to the side and drawing out the first syllable, and the slow chuckle that breaks out of him at dismaying turns. He’s from another country, a carpenter with quick eyes under sleepy lids. You are getting married, and of course I have feelings about that.