Malbork Castle, evening. Now that I know the gipsy story, how they ended up here in the Northern Poland Lake District, waiting for the European Union borders to open up once Poland will join this big European economic powerhouse, keen on their part of the dough, social money free of charge and the respect of outsiders they mostly despise... So now I really like to get the background story of the two dozen or so Africans living on this badly mantained camping in old tents, taking turns on sleeping time and spending most of their time, when they aren't doing odd jobs for nearby farmers, on the camping drinking Polish beer and chewing grass that reminds them of their native QAT... Five of them inhabit an old army tent near the lake. The sour acid smell
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