I came to
it's VS Naiapol, in his book on India, Area of Darkness, my comments reserved to some ambiguous later.
Going back to London tomorrow.
I came to
November. I had barely arrived to
I never liked that slogan. To me it smelt of an obsession with one s name, one s self-image, guilt feelings and good conscience. And with it, the calm, regretful acceptance of defeat in the count-down to hostilities in
Coming back home, I wrote this.
"Don t run away straight after the show: the real thing begins later. we re taking over the U.S Embassy, it s round the corner. Instructions and map on the filer. Read and pass on ."
What it takes, it takes. To the cold
Get bored and walk away from the centre: read the Iraqi Communist Party newsletter, but mumble something as a negative reply when they shove the donation box in your face. Slowly retreat, until you find the pedal-powered sound system, where the mock tiger is
making soap bubble and guitars cry out loud. Let the soft reggae warm your frozen toes. Wonder if the singer really a retired Soviet General. When the confused, wool-wrapped old lady asks you:
Do you know where s the coach to
make sure you give her the flier.
"Just follow the instructions"
grey skies and contemplations