Blood from the Road Gallery

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The road is long and hard. And less than an hour into our midnight trek towards some un-mentionable Indo island outpost, I've already stumbled into a concrete ditch and raked half the flesh from my leg. Shit. Indo's full of fun little traps like that. Everywhere you go, you see pretty tourist girls with puss-oozing scooter burns on their inner calves; pudgy vacationers charred lobster red except for a tank top's tale of how pasty white they were the day before; hardened tube-dudes stained yellow with Chinese medicine over their reef rashes. These are the real travel souvenirs. And stepping off the side of the road to take a mid-drive leak, I just bought mine.

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