Journal Journal: No foreign, sorry 10
The Captain's dim eyes peered out from under his hat.
"Sorry, I don't speak foreign," he said.
I stepped forward, further into the dust, which was abrasive and intrusive, having been scorched by the sun and prodded by the wind into my pores.
"Sorry, I don't speak foreign," he said.
I stepped forward, further into the dust, which was abrasive and intrusive, having been scorched by the sun and prodded by the wind into my pores.