Lord of the rings

I have begun to realise that I am repeating myself. Well, not in the sense of going gaga, but rather in the sense of doing things or seeing things again.

Today, on the way to the Post Office, passing Mamo's newly done-up eatery, I thought I recognised somebody, vaguely Algerian or Gypsy by the dress code. Then she stooped, with considerable balletic abilities for somebody with embonpoint, and picked up a ring from the street, wondering out aloud: "De l'or, de l'or". I recognised the voice immediately: it was the same female con-artist who worked the Antibes street last year.

She hadn't recognised me, but I had surely recognised her.