Thursday, November 30, 1995

Kathmandu, the fifty-first day


Once again I cursed my damn micro computer: thirteen days of diary are gone. This is of course not to have to blame myself because it was already a week that I promised myself every day to go printing the contents of my drive.
France, "The great nation," the Germans would say, is a country in which it is nice to belong when you can see your prose printed for free in a luxury place, at the other end of the earth, called „Alliance Française" where everyone treats you like an important person, able to speak perfectly the language they would like to master!

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