Truluri

Ich bin (ein?) Berliner

Innocent until fingered

Escape, part ?

Three days after a spontaneous Wednesday morning decision I punch in my frequent flyer number at the airport check-in kiosk to find, horror of horrors, that I am still sitting in 22F. It was still dark outside when I phoned United Airlines after my first class upgrade could not be accommodated online. The reservation agent’s confirmation did not carry enough weight because the kiosk’s screen flashed the word economy and nothing else.

By luck there was no line at the counter where I sought the help of an agent with irregularly eaten fingernails. “The names don’t match,” she explained to justify that I could not be upgraded. In short order she realized that I do not travel under assumed identities. A good number of keystrokes later she handed me a boarding pass with the coveted 3A.

dance on a volcano

what do you do when you place yourself between a bullet and a target, are incapable to move and the guy pointing the rifle is intimately familiar with the weaponry because he builds them from scratch and has a good aim?



ed ancora una volta, voglio sfuggire, evadermi dov’è posso sognare con i miei occhi aperti, senza avere paura della cazzo di notte.