The attendant watched me, his face in shadow from the shack’s awning, as he chewed on his stick. I could feel his eyes on my back while I held the pump in the tank of the car.
Category Archives: Journal
Travel stories with a journal entry.
十八. Handover
I can keep applying but I know it’s me blocking myself, not a bossman on the other side. I’ve got to pick it up again, get past the voice in my head telling me, No!
Mười bảy. The Good, the Bad, and the Blind
We were held up by the Khmer Rouge on the edge of Angkor Watt, held up with machetes and Kalashnikovs, while our black tunic’ed kidnappers looked at what they could steal.