I'll just grab my jacket, said Manh-Hung.
I'll just grab my jacket,
My boys are practically all bushmen, while these chaps are salt-water men, and there’s no love lost between them. You watch the fun.
[W]hen I reach the bridge and begin to run across it, I will pray that the sniper who killed old man Samir yesterday and little Lejla the day before, is looking the other way, or moving position as the snipers do, or warming his fingers round a mug of hot coffee, or glancing up and downing a slivovic.
I would swallow my pride, I would choke on the rinds / But the lack thereof would leave me empty inside
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