door
Andreas Mitzschke op donderdag 29 oktober 2009
The train spat me out of its humid, hot, steaming belly. Not really sure what had happened within the last 30 hours in this train, pictures rushed through my mind. Standing on the station platform I quickly had to pay my dinner to the kitchen compartment. Memories passed by like flickering lights: The same particular smell many Indian villages and cities with open sewage systems disseminate; the d...
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