It was the sort of dinner where one had to sit with strangers at the same table for two hours and show some respect. We were eight with nothing in common. Two options were available. Either to remain silent or to mobilize one's skills to conduct a decent conversation.
A married couple. The gray-haired husband came across as a dignified person, and she looked like young Fanny Ardant. Natural fuzzy look, thin body and lovely spontaneous attitudes that would hide, as I imagine, a volcano of emotions. In an imaginary film, she would madly fall in love with a young bohemian man and leave everything behind her.
A late fifties man from an evil country. Well, a country with an evil leader is more accurate though. An impossible and hypothetical question would have been "How do you feel about your leader?" or "Are children really die from hunger over there?". But who am I to ask.
A lady who kept adjusting her wig every now and then. She was not fixing messed up hair, no, she was adjusting the whole wig on her head... in case nobody noticed she was wearing a wig.
A man who extended bridges of communication every where. His tools? Several foreign languages he mastered and a fatherly look in his eyes.
Someone was far there at the end of the table. Our eyes never met. He engaged in a non-stop conversation with the dignified husband.
A red-haired smiled, and I smiled back. A possible interesting conversation floated in the air, but she was a bit far, and with the loud music it was not feasible to try.
A silent man who maybe was thinking of writing up his thoughts on the dinner in his blog.
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