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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


27 May 08


S. plays his Nepalese music video for the fifth time, overlaying the landscape with autobiographical commentary. That dusty hairpin narrow road led to Annapurna, where as a student he'd gamble his weekly allowance.

You could lose the contents of your stomach on this road; an accident is rarely "small". Verdant gorges become graveyards. Once a bus went over. 57 people die. Everybody go and help. I went, this shirt,—he plucks his sleeve—I use as bandages.

He shakes his head, side to side, with that smile that isn't an American or an Irish smile, but close, a smile whose character I'm still studying. 57 people!

I cannot play this again, he says as he hits PLAY, I will miss my country terribly.




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