The figure advances, throwing a broken shadow along the jagged edge of the narrow passageway as it comes closer. Monica musters the entrances to the shacks hopefully, but all of them are suddenly bolted and there is no way for her to turn. She tries to study the face of the man coming toward her without looking him directly in the eye, and sees him glaring back at her like an enraged bull, with flared nostrils. She... mehr anzeigen
The figure advances, throwing a broken shadow along the jagged edge of the narrow passageway as it comes closer. Monica musters the entrances to the shacks hopefully, but all of them are suddenly bolted and there is no way for her to turn. She tries to study the face of the man coming toward her without looking him directly in the eye, and sees him glaring back at her like an enraged bull, with flared nostrils. She accelerates her gait and, in the exact moment in which she wants to slip past him, the man steps up to her with an erratic, scissor-like movement to bar her path. His shoulder-long, black hair hangs limply over his narrow shoulders and falls into his black pupils as he fixes an evil gaze on her. Some locals appear at the far end of the alley. They interrupt their conversations to watch the confrontation between the man and the blue-eyed foreigner, without a flicker of emotion. Then the long-haired beggar jerks forth a grime stained hand with long, curled fingernails and strokes her fair cheek while she freezes on the spot as his rough fingertips rake across her skin. She shudders involuntarily, unable to step aside. The man holds her mesmerized with his deranged stare.
“Get the fuck out of here, filthy bitch,” he hisses in perfect English, “you don’t belong. Go home.”