theserengetiplane
I was there: Afghanistan, with the mujhagidine. I remember gaunt-looking soviet soldiers inhaling short drags of cheap cigarettes with blankets of snow bedding down great mountains. I had friends who fell under the French paratroopers bayon…
An old relationship without closure is naught but a relic buried in the sand. And not beyond reach of rediscovery.
Publius Sertorois gazed at the expanse beyond the frontier; a confused mess of thick forests and treacherous mosquito enflamed swamps lazily returned the glare. The leaves russelled in the near distance and the hum of disease carrying insec…