Monday, December 12, 2005

Crack (my bones, not the drug)

I have just come back form the office Chiropractic (one of the little perks they have supplied us with). The whole experience was quite strange. In a little office on the second floor there is a man in a white coat and with a funny accent (apparently he comes from Santiago del estero), a strange machine which reminded me of a medieval torture instrument and a funny smell of fear and surprise.
The man puts me on the machine and starts asking me thousands of questions one after the other. Every couple of questions, crack!, he twists your neck or back. After about five minutes (and three hundred questions) he was finished and let me leave, bewildered but relaxed.

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