Author: Gorka Leclercq
Date: September 8, 2009
The sky is blue, there is a wonderful shining sun, newly fallen powdered snow, and the entire slope untrodden, all for me. I grip the poles and lunge downhill. I fall into the snow up to my knees and when I take my first turn, a thought goes through my head: Damn, what time must it be that I’m having such a good time?
I stand up suddenly, so quickly that I bump my head on the corner of a cabinet that is at the upper part of my bunk. What time is it?
I started my watch at six o’clock a.m., I grope for the clock, three fifteen...son of a gun...
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