"It is not fair to ask of others what you are unwilling to do yourself."
I love the wind.
Nothing beats sitting at the back of a lorry on a highway at 80 km/hr, feeling the wind blow into your face and lift your spirits.
I can do this for a year.
Sometimes I notice interesting things. Like when I can "hear" large stationary objects as the lorry goes past them, such as walls, overhead bridges, or even tunnels. Probably because said objects reflect back the sound of the lorry's engine, allowing me to detect their presence. Not unlike echolation. How fun.
But the fun ends and the work begins when the lorry reaches its destination.
6000 boxes of shoes. Two lorries. Four workers. Objective: Transfer to another warehouse.
Sometime after lifting a -HUGE- glass partition of sorts, I notice red. A deep, crimson red. Sprinkled around me. Pure, unadulterated red. It captivated me. I noticed the source. Me.
Ok so that's a fancy way of saying I cut my hand. Surprising I didn't notice until all the blood was around me.
And 2 hours later...
Shit. Got a small chunk of flesh nicked out of my middle finger. Irritated, I stare at it waiting for the damned thing to bleed. Some wounds are just like that. They lag and lag and lag as you stare at the shiny-freshly-cut piece of flesh until it finally starts bleeding.
And got cut again.
And again.
My left hand is like scar tissue held together by bits of flesh now.
