Hard times in New York Town

Expatriate's career (anonymous; possibly painted by an expatriate's wife at drawing class)

Lost days

I spend time at the park.

I immediately notice that the moms look suspiciously thrilled when they play with their kids.

I then meet a crew of European housewives. They hold either an MBA, or a fancy diploma from a good French university. They all are around 30. They all have two kids, and all of them named Josephine or Edouard. They all wear diamond rings as big as the Ritz. They all seem to hide a gigantic depression under weary smiles and super precise knowledge regarding tae kwon do classes for kids.
– Conclusion 1: I definitely should find a job like right now.

I also meet the first terrifying American women we Europeans are so afraid of. They all have goldy hair graciously fluttering in the wind. They all wear leggings and the same legs as my yoga teacher.  They all have pretty 9-month-old daughters who already walk. They all carry yoga mats behind their stroller that looks rather like a caterpillar truck (but a pink-ish version). And worse, they all look nice.
– Conclusion 2: I as well might finish my last European chocolates and binge-watch Watch Men for a while.



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