Tag Archives: Strangest Travel

não-me-toque VI – (en)

They came together, commissar and coroner, with the pockets full of chips and cards. In their car we escaped to the bar of Clear, who ushered us into a corner, served the coffee, left open a bottle of cognac and, … Continue reading

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não-me-toque III – (en)

The battered napkin map showed that I still had to gasp a few more meters to find the treasure. It was impossible to make them. A solemn police looking more as a cowboy than an investigator stepped out with half … Continue reading

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não-me-toque II – (en)

That my first day at Alcatraz, in a clearly faulty act, I put the computer to charge. I showered with cold water —hot only between seven and nine in the evening—, shave, grant myself in the mirror a willing “approved” and went … Continue reading

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não-me-toque I – (en)

It was still pitch dark when the Mallmann entered the village and the bus driver slammed on the brakes like an assault vehicle full of pigs with lengthy hunger to crush protesters. Não-Me-Toque (Don’t-Touch-Me), nearly 300 km clattering west from … Continue reading

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