A Couple With The Same Birthday

Quick nell'Interzona raid. I'm lost between the smells of amber, those voices curry, spicy eyes of young Arabs, like the old, glorious days. Aided by a ginger root nell'Interzona'm back, and it was impossible not to recall when, eyes wide open, ears open, I was ready to seize the slightest whispered proffer, the invitation of the sub-dealer abuse, with notes of fresh cash in his pocket, looking for a familiar face bronzed faces, a look of understanding, the times when I had only set foot outside the station antennas because I stood on end and like a divining rod to guide me through the Interzona, Meeting the Man.

I circumnavigated the garden with the main gate of esoteric Masonic symbols carved walking slowly, shooting glances hours supplicants now investigating looking for a nod, went adrift in the depths of what Chinatown is the "de no caves "crawling in front of local imports and exports perpetually empty, safety covers far more lucrative illegal activities, asking for cigarettes to those who appeared even remotely suspected of other vices well, I stuck my nose in all the Turkish barber shops in search of Ali, Said , Omar, I have stationed in front of the Indian restaurant combating nausea caused by agitation and fried chicken that dall'afrore spread from the kitchen at 10 am, I pulled into the suq, attracted by the shaky record of a sitar, the scent of coriander, I talked to the guys who sell the Algerian mint tea, with the butchers meat halal (lawful) without hide my intentions illegal, I asked the old leather slippers that sit in smoking or chewing khat on the threshold of the market, chew seraphic calm as camels moving jaws carved in wood by setting an indefinite point on the horizon and spitting from time to time, I have offered previously to cadge cigarettes Gypsy resting in the parapet watching the trains depart and arrive, dee dirty climbing on their rafts of cork, which I have followed in their wanderings, driven by an insane desire that tickled me the amygdala, I mixed with people of the abyss, with the arrogance typical of unconsciousness, checazzomidicevailcervello? I stopped in front of the bench Bengali grocer who smiles at me quietly. What do I need? I point the finger with a ginger root, is closer to his arm to mine, I do not get there, hire exotic vegetables separate us. I pay the fragrant, delicious, saving tuber and go home.