iron rods

Today I translated the narration text to the Uprising in Tibet 2008 film. Writing about torture still doesn't come easily so to find myself in a blissful state of mind I turned my new cd on and prepared a glass of martini with more than five olives drifting. (Usually I remember seven elements, in accordance with the anticipations of psychology, but in case of such an abundance more than five makes me dizzy.)
Oops.
Martini made me weepy and Let It Rain turned out to be a compilation of the saddest melodies by Tracy I've ever heard. But I kept on working. Sentences about iron rods. And vomiting. About deaths and cases of disappearance. I tried to be "technical", non-emotional, just to convey only as much temperature as the original reveals. Tomorrow I'll have a look at the ten pages results; today my face is red with crying and alcohol.
And this Tracy. This Tracy.