Tour

She had two-passports, British and Turkish - like a spy. She must have told me many things, and we must have had long conversations. I wish I could remember even a single-snatch. So here it was, the scenario that I half-way imagined, but with no experience could not know. By the scenario of the Dom, that became my true-love toward the end of high-school, I would imagine I was suppose to fail. I was suppose to be apathetic by default. She could hold-it over me in continuous berate and recrimination. She was truly superior. I was truly a failure. I could never satisfy her, if she didn't-tell me so. I could never be her equal. I would have to beg just for the privilege of improvisation, which is what I would-want all along. Now I love her, as the feeling of the womb - my-tombstone.

Seems we were deep in nowhere, and it was dark and we were almost out of gas. In-most of outlying Yugoslavia and Bulgaria, business closed down by six o'clock including gas stations. We were driving through a small town and she spotting a couple of army trucks with soldiers standing-round. She told me to pull over. She tried different languages and found one soldier who could speak German. They were whistling her-up in many ways not-statuesque, complimenting her beauty. She asked them if they could give us some gas. They made a rush of frenzied activity to get a hose. They siphoned gas from one of the trucks into the car, and did it so-gladly, even though if they were caught, they probably would be shot by firing squad. Not sure if there was money involved as a tip or not. But I am guessing her beauty was duty-free.

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