I think the world is too big for us sometimes. We are stuck in specific spots of the world, and often borders and airplanes limit us from discovering the neighbhouring country. It’s funny sometimes our big world is too small for many.
We came upon slowing traffic.
Inside the bus Standing passengers were thrown and grips tightened as we edged forward across the unfinished road. We passed the sun-glassed occupants of cars and busses and the rolled-up sleeves of lorry drivers who's tanned arms hung out of every window, and who's fingers tapped an unheard tune. I stooped to stare at the dancing distance of the baked tarmacked highway. Our eyes stung and wet The metalled road blazed. Our approaching gaze silent. Gripped passports Identity papers rosary- beads -Letters of transit - not needed; The border did what most borders do- and shrugged us through. Laughter becomes all languages. Later that afternoon, I sipped from the glass I held. Jez turned to me and asked, "Is this what it's like to be drunk?" I smiled as I slid my wine towards her... ... words and foto T Carroll..
— The End —