In the safety and shade of the overhanging precipice I crawled. The air at this altitude was thin, and every crawl-step thing or whatever you call a step you do when you are crawling, took twice the effort of crawling normally along the loungeroom at home. The sun was relentless at this time of year and this country in Iraq, so I was grateful for the short break from the heat provided by the massive overhanging rock. By the way, i was halfway up a cliff. My AK-47 was slung over my shoulder and after several days the strap seemed to be gnawing into my very flesh.  I was reminded of the old folk tune "Fuck My Arm Fuckin Hurts", and I whistled it through gritted teeth as I slowly edged my way along...

21 cm x 15 cm, 32 pages

Green Comix

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