The hissing of pumped air, the sweet putrid aroma of alcohol and kerosene, the spark of the red-tipped match that started it all, and the beginning of night in a far-flung village detached from the gallows of city lights.
Memoirs and songs.
The hissing of pumped air, the sweet putrid aroma of alcohol and kerosene, the spark of the red-tipped match that started it all, and the beginning of night in a far-flung village detached from the gallows of city lights.