0212. i couldnt bring myself to look at the meter. it raged on, akin to the speed of the vehicle it was on, ferrying me across our little island country to my home.
the vermilion digits flickered like little devils dancing on the dashboard. the constant roar of the overworked engine. the driver's soft mandarin pop from the 70s. or 60s. the hypnotic swinging of the buddhist ornaments that dangled from the rear view mirror. the jets of cool wind from the tiny black air condition slits gently fondle my face... coaxing me into a slum-
"xiao di, dao le!" (kinda means: "dude, we've arrived!") the driver bellowed in mandarin. i sprang from my
-ber. dang, he's fast. did even get to enjoy a quick nap. and the 4 red numbers staring back at me starting with a 3 didnt help to make me feel any better at all.
sigh. a fool and his money are soon parted.
No comments:
Post a Comment