Iquitos, Peru: Closing Time
I realised one evening that some people might think I'm a little odd at times. At a crowded table of friends at an outdoor cafe, a few of them suddenly shouted at me, “Are you fucking nuts?!”
Well, I felt that I had to explain myself, I guess, because a car bomb had exploded across the street while earlier and a couple of tourists had been killed. The blackened wreck was still burning down, and the white painted lines on the street were still sizzling, giving off an acid smelling smoke that made some peoples eyes water as they watched the ambulance attendants moved away the bodies. I had mentioned off-hand that my life was pretty good and that for the first time in many years I felt at home and at peace. I was sitting at a nice cafe with people I liked, and it was truly a pleasant evening, even with the bitter scent of burnt rubber and the sickly-sweet smell of charred human flesh. I wasn't thinking about that part of the evening when I said how nice it was to be sitting out in the evening under the stars in the warmth and joy of a fine night. My life was awfully good at the moment, though of course it was too bad about the tourists. My companions shouted, “Are you fucking crazy?!”
Perhaps I had mis-timed my comment.
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