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A Play for Oil New Adventures

A Play for Oil : New Adventures [We passed between the grand marble pillars supporting the twin entrance towers, their tops truncated by a grey pall of mist where we stopped, the steel trusses of the bridge stretching in front. A fifty dollar bill was accepted with a nod of the head and the three of us extricated ourselves from the tiny car. The ancient Trabant turned around and drove away in a cloud of pungent exhaust. It was a chill, foggy morning as we steeled ourselves for the crossing of the Danube into Romania, the carriageway coated in a slick of oil and mud. When half way across the murk shrouded river and already a kilometre walked, we reached the line of articulated wagons waiting for the border control. We had escaped from our strike bound train stuck on the Bulgarian side and had been forced to proceed on foot. As we trudged towards the immigration officers on the other side we must have presented a most contrasting sight compared to the truckers and their cargoes; three rumple suited men walking towards their post, one carrying a violin case.] http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png

A Play for Oil New Adventures

Daley, Tim
A Play for Oil — Nov 11, 2017
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Publisher
Springer International Publishing
Copyright
© Springer International Publishing AG 2018
ISBN
978-3-319-67984-6
Pages
109 –132
DOI
10.1007/978-3-319-67985-3_5
Publisher site
See Chapter on Publisher Site

Abstract

[We passed between the grand marble pillars supporting the twin entrance towers, their tops truncated by a grey pall of mist where we stopped, the steel trusses of the bridge stretching in front. A fifty dollar bill was accepted with a nod of the head and the three of us extricated ourselves from the tiny car. The ancient Trabant turned around and drove away in a cloud of pungent exhaust. It was a chill, foggy morning as we steeled ourselves for the crossing of the Danube into Romania, the carriageway coated in a slick of oil and mud. When half way across the murk shrouded river and already a kilometre walked, we reached the line of articulated wagons waiting for the border control. We had escaped from our strike bound train stuck on the Bulgarian side and had been forced to proceed on foot. As we trudged towards the immigration officers on the other side we must have presented a most contrasting sight compared to the truckers and their cargoes; three rumple suited men walking towards their post, one carrying a violin case.]

Published: Nov 11, 2017

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