You breathe, and a million different particles of a toxic nature burn your nostrils and throat. Sweat drips from every pore as if water itself is going out of fashion. Mosquitos buzz about gleefully like vampires at a blood bank. The drivers have bloodlust for pedestrians who dare attempt to cross their grandfathers road...which is every goddamned road. The concept of queuing is more foreign than a foreigner in a foreign land doing foreign things.
Foreign is a funny word.
The internet is mind numbingly slow. Literally minds the numb. And no one truly, properly grasps the beauty of the word twat.
Tis' home. Wouldn't have it any other way.
Monday, June 18, 2007
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