Pain-Envy and Other Afflictions of the Fauxletariat

Cold

femme fatale
Bedriska, my grandmother, was an elegant, aristocratic Ilsa Lund type who was the kind of woman a man would do anything for. The kind of woman who would’ve made him do it, too.

My mother, Jirina, or Georgie as she calls herself in America, is gorgeous and vivacious. She is a Bond girl with a thick accent and a touching sweetness. A woman with a spine of steel and a broken heart. James Bond would’ve loved her – but like all the women he loves, she is a tragic heroine. If she and James had ever crossed paths she would’ve ended up being fed to sharks by a villain with an even thicker accent then hers, or would’ve at least faced a tearful goodbye with her handsome spy, who couldn’t bear to be with her for risk of putting her in harms way.

These are the women of my family…

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