The poor wretch had no money left for tokens from such a fantastic trip so, upon leaving, all of us decided to share our small ceramic figures –powerful images used to invoke gods– with him. We really loved the process of acquiring them, bargaining hard at the bazaar with that eccentric guy who thought he’d get us broke as fools.
Later at the airport our smile died away: out of sheer clumsiness, one of the colourful idols slipped off my hands. Upon hitting the floor, it broke into a thousand pieces. Amongst them, a shady white powder showed conspicuously.
Now, sitting in cold, dark isolation cells we strive to prove that we are not drug mules, but a bunch of fools.