Dead Leg (1)
March 2nd 1997 The shiny, silver metal drill bit pushed against my right leg, pressing into the skin just below my knee, and the burly Bulgarian doctor turned his face to me and cheerfully said:
'Radio, Musica? Yes?'
Bulgaria - March 1997
Looking around the room at the cracked paint, the box of tools of on the floor and its wide window with a view of the crisp blue sky and the tops of the dusty mo
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