03 Jun 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, 0 Comments
06/03 Oxfornd, England
One cold morning, while we were huddling on a train platform like lost ghosts in a graveyard, a young man with a weathered face wandered up to the two of us. It looked as if he had been working the local mines and hadn’t showered in some time but approached us with a smile anyway. (more…)
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