Man down
Walking through the set of the observatory on Tuesday and one of those damn grates that comprise our ship floor got me (yeah, I shouldn’t have been walking around in chanclas). Gushed blood for twenty minutes and threw some hydrogen peroxide on it. That was gona be it till Eliza recounted how Bob Marley died by allowing some cut on his foot to fester. Rastas. Two hours later I’m getting jabbed with needles and essientially given an enema in my foot.
Grates. Yeah. Good idea.
