Why are all of these men so interested and curious about something that happened in the girls' bathroom? There were no men present when we were changing out of our gym clothes. Ok, so that was embarrassing, but there were only maybe three or four girls there at the time. I am trying to remember who they were? What would Allwood know about that?
And as I wander about the countryside, fully clothed of course, these little brown people stop to stare at me, thronging around, amazed to see the novel appearance of white people in the flesh perhaps for the first time in their lives.
But that was a different story. Those were two different stories, not to mention some other undifferentiated stories.
It would be unfortunate for these little brown people to be accidentally given too much personal information about me, a white person, as they are sometimes possessed of an intensely and inordinately prurient curiosity as to the secrets of white people. Their tiny little brains can't seem to handle the overload of information about white people being actually flesh and blood creatures. I am short and yet they call me a giant. They might protest when I try to explain that we are really not winged fairies with special powers flitting about the high school, and then again if they really knew that we were not mythically powerful they might try to prove that by killing us. But I digress.
And then we have the Italians who seem to be there only to prove to the natives that the white people are not to be trusted, that only they, the Italians, can be trusted, because only they represent the might and power of Rome. After all, their country is Roman Catholic. So that is confusing, especially when you consider that actually they are CIA agents and we are Protestants. But as everywhere there are plenty of clueless persons there for the fishing. But I digress.
