I sat in a park (Baluta Bay) near the sea for a while, reading, when I met a Libyan taxi driver who came to Malta to learn English (not always the best choice, but not bad either). We struck up a conversation and for his 2 months of studying his English was great. He leaves for home tomorrow, to his 4 brothers and 3 sisters. It’s strange here, many Maltese (not most, but many) have a brain-dead racism ingrained into whatever lump of tissue they use for what can be considered thought. It’s one of the things that will go through a painful change, for everyone, here in the near future. Lodged at home, stopping at some stores to look for something of the desert for someone special (Sting’s Desert Rose is playing through cool coincidence), another tale of oddness shall now be told. Say cheese….
1 comment:
"It’s strange here, many Maltese (not most, but many) have a brain-dead racism ingrained into whatever lump of tissue they use for what can be considered thought."
So that is where the Ass of Bremen had ended up! How much is many?
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