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the colours in your head


There's a law in the tropics that stipulates that the further away you go from conventional civilisation, the less attention is paid to conventional logic regarding cars and their supposed physical limitations. Four wheel drive only road, consisting entirely of mud pits, mini-ravines and arbitrary mounds of gravel? Nothing that an ancient beat-up Renault can't solve. Seven people in a car? A normal load for said Renault. Bear in mind, though, that the seven people should have been picked up at random points along the road and have no relationship to one another, regardless of how many elbows are jammed into others' faces. A good course of conduct is also, having hired a taxi driver for the night for the princely sum of 20,000 Ariary (ten bucks), to turn around suddenly in the nightclub to find him a.) in there b.) downing a massive rum and coke and c.) with his hand down the back of some chicks' pants. Later, as he drove us back over the aforementioned awful road, I tried my best to forget how much I had seen him drink and forget the random girl in the red dress riding shotgun and just concentrate on getting out of the whole deal alive.


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