Maier enjoyed the trip. No rain clouds and no dolphins. No tourists from Frankfurt. Samnang passed the eastern shore of the island in a wide arc. Coconut palms lined the picture-postcard beach.
The young Khmer captain stared across the water without expression. Maier didn’t find this reassuring, but the sunset hung like a Turner painting and lent the day plenty of painful Endzeitstimmung. He was sailing into the beginning of the end of something.
EndzeitstimmungThe redhead from England was also quiet and smoked one Ara after another.
As a journalist, Maier had always known why he worked in dangerous situations. He had a mission, a job, to go to hell, to visit places where no one would go voluntarily, to collect information and impressions and to carry them back into the world to remind
