Skoll: Clockwork Monkey

The moment you find somebody to connect with, somebody who understands you, somebody who you simply enjoy being with, they leave you. His name was propably Pablo or Juan. I'm sure he was tall and dark. Don't you understand that the only thing he has in mind is to ride you, have some fun, and then dump you like a broken toy. Still you left with him. Why?

So in other words my Monkey was stolen. We had parked all three of them in the same place in front of a big hotel in Pamplona. This morning the Blue Monkey was gone. The only thing left of it was the ignition lock. Fuck. Propably some drunken idiots have taken it for a ride and dumped it when it run out of gas.

Bob and Joe have rode on and here I am at the police station waiting to report the crime. The picture is from yesterday from the highest place in Pyrenees our path crossed (1073 m).

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