Let me introduce you to one of my fellow travellers. George looks mid-fifties and is, I think, from England, most likely London. I can't tell you much more than that, because frankly, neither can George.
I've never met someone with quite so many braincells gone walkabouts. Having discussed where I grew up, he asked me when I was going back to Italy. He also commented that he didn't blame me for leaving, Germany is a horrible, cold place.
At some point in the last 30 years (timescale changes every 2 seconds when George tells it, as does location), his ex-wife tried to have him killed. He's riddled with bullet wound scars.
George has lost his passport, his visa, quite a lot of screws, and he's trying to get home. I hope he makes it.
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