I’m gonna die on this dirty little street in Africa. It was much too frantic a moment to be thinking about such things but it occurred to Floyd anyway, a sudden image in his mind’s eye of a late summer Sunday morning at home with his parents sitting down to breakfast without the slightest notion that their precious son David was here, a million miles away, fighting for his life in this insane city they’d never even heard of, much less cared about. What in the hell am I doing here?
