Chapter 1 Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia. 1992

JC


Fuck.

* * * * *


Uff.

* * * * *


My shoes. They´ve taken my shoes again… Bet it was Indy. “Is Indy here?”
I look around in the dark. I´m so cold. I hurt all over. The only part of me that doesn´t hurt is my tongue. Damned winters of Santa Cruz. Hottest summers and cold, damp winters. There´s no escape.

Why did I have to be born here? Did I ask to be born in this shithole?
“Guapi, have you seen Indy? The bastard has stolen my shoes again.”
I shake Guapi but there’s no response. I turn him over and his face is red raw.
“Shit man. You´ve overdone it again. You look dreadful. Have you seen Indy?”
I´ve no idea why I ask him. Of course he hasn´t seen Indy. Guapi fell asleep in his own vomit. That´s probably why Indy took my shoes and not Guapi´s. Guapi´s are covered in vomit.

I stick my hand down Guapi´s pants and grab his glue pot. It´s stuck to his crotch so I snatch at it. He lets out a yelp of pain, writhes and spits at me. I think I must have pulled skin right off his stinking penis. I have a bit of clefa left and I squeeze every last bit into the pot. Once my nose is in the pot, the dreaming starts; colours, letters, movements of light that take me faraway. A yellow word, can´t read it. A woman in flight. A bed. A ship.

That feels better. Who cares if I have no shoes? I live in Bolivia. I am a Bolivian street kid and I am looking at fucking fireworks going off in my head.


NOTE: "Clefa" is a  a mix of glue and lighter fluid, inhaled by street kids.

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