29.12.2025, 17:49
The helicopter shook like an old Paykan on a mountain road. Takeshi-san, the pilot in the Hawaiian shirt with a kamikaze headband, held the cyclic with one hand and tried to open a jar of pickled ginger with an army knife with the other. “Turbulence, Alavi-san!” he yelled over the roar of the rotors and the Japanese pop blaring from the speakers. “The crabs are nervous! The ginger won’t open! Bad feng shui!”
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