Electra.

Vagator Beach, 22-01-1995. Electra was her name and we used to date together but that was many years ago. I look across the crowd in amazement but, YES, it really is her....Now I`m not on some far out trip despite my presence on this acid beach party. It might be 4.30 o`clock in the morning and I might have been dancing on this crap for nothing TECHNO music but I`ve been sober all night. Not like the rest of this crowd, mostly israeli people who have recently finished their three year stint in the Israeli army shooting unarmed palastinians, the english all drunk and stoned out of their collective minds, are also heavily present here. I move through this crowd of weirdos charas smoke invading my nostrils - what is the point of smoking when the air is so pregnant with marijuana fumes, just a waste of money. She sees my face way before I reach her and the look of recognition in her eyes is obvious. When first light chases away the dark of the night I find myself on the back of her motorbike, around us hunderts of exhausted people are trying to make it home on their motorbikes. Rumour has it the indian police will only stop israelies for grass checks so we`ll be safe from that little bit of inconvenience.