The smell of burning flesh on Christmas morning.
January 31st 2005 It’s almost midnight as the train rolls nonchalantly into the station some three hours late. The platform erupts as passengers and porters rush around locating their carriages. I take up position opposite mine about two metres away from a fellow tourist. The train doors remain firmly shut and it seems nobody is in a hurry to unlock them. The minutes drag and I begin to feel a slight unease that
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