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cab drivers

Strange to be back here, drizzle and a bacon sandwich. today has been hard. a faulty premature alarm, no breakfast (enough time, but too many croissant already), and then the shaken anxiety of passports, full bathrooms, unhappy queues, an overflowing airport located in the thin countryside of London’s hinterland. This is a depressing green belt. In the cab to the airport this morning we had one of those discussions with the driver that describe, in summary, how things cost different amounts in different countries. Can you believe how cheap a menu del dia was when we spent in pesetas? Why would anyone cook? Donde eres? Melbourne, Australia. Oh, good place. How long in Barcelona? Tres dias. Ohhhhh so sad, so short, he says. Then, cigarettes are 5Euro for a packet, 10Pound in London, he says. I tell him that it’s $20 a packet in Australia, but I’m making it up and possibly neither me nor the driver smoke anyway. Of course he smokes. Things cost different amounts in different countries. If you want to smoke you should stay in Spain. I think this might be the first time I include a face in a photo. I was inspired by a short beautiful Iraqi doctor last night while she blew smoke at me. She said it’s easy, and it is.

rooftopsmirrorpepita

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