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Poproszę pstrąg.

Getting colder: the Varsoviennes have all decided it’s time to be wearing wool shrug/scarf things. Today: second Polish yoga class (slow, slow, hard-work Iyengar); picked up tickets from two different theatres for three different plays this week and weekend; another walk in the Saxon Gardens, where the previously noted profusion of fallen leaves from yesterday was being painstakingly raked into rows to be removed; study for Polish vocabulary test at the BUW; Polish vocabulary test; dinner with friends from Polish class at a restaurant in Plac Konstytucji, where I ordered a trout in celebration of knowing how to say the word for “trout” in Polish. (“Pstrąg,” if you were wondering.) No matter what you call it, it still has a lot of tiny bones in it. Tomorrow, I have an interview, a play, and probably at least one more moment of wide-spindrift-sealesque contemplating the fallen leaves while they are still there to be contemplated.

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