Monday, December 4, 1995

Kathmandu, the fifty-fifth day




About the Kleenex,
 
Even though I spent two years to persuade Micky that anything what a French body absorbs, nothing ever escapes from it, it may happen that there are accidents, if they remain secret. In these cases, regardless of the offending orifice, a packet of Kleenex solves all the problems remaining less obscene and more convenient than a roll of toilet paper. Prudent people like me will always carry a package "in progress" and keep one in reserve. Both qualities are on the Nepalese market, Chinese and Germans (better of course, but also twice as expensive). Few accidents, meal too spicy and a little fresh air quickly exhausted my Chinese stock and surprised me completely helpless in the face of adversity. We'll catch me doing; German quality will never leave me!
 
There are days with it and days without of course, but at this point! Aside from the failure of Kleenex, the small fitted tank tops were too fitted; my printed journal illegible, my VISA credit card delayed by the Post Office strike in France keeping me blocked in the threatening winter in Kathmandu and even a computer failure at Air France which prevented me to change my plane ticket today. The only solution which came to my mind was to create a diversion. Trading all those little things I could not determine myself to buy and finally do it because of my bad mood.

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