By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
A guy in a full charcoal suit begged – look I’ll pay you a hundred. I was on holiday in London, and was on the receiving end of that call. – please, two hundred, two fifty. There was a long silence, as we agreed.
Holding onto the hundred years old cast iron window grills of the tavern half-way down the hill as he dropped the phone. He was knee deep in black mud together with other men in suits in various shades of black. They were rolling in the muck which covered the whole street. I was the only woman with the Irish complexion on my knees struggling to get up at the lower part of the incline.
An odd European holiday experience?