27 September 2010
In 1957 on a rainy day in France, my phone sneezed on a man who looked like Fidel Castro wearing a woolly hat. The man was sitting astride a giraffe-shaped cushion and discussing paranormal existentialism with a yellow rain jacket. My phone saluted him and smiled, then did the moon walk into a Lebanese cafe where it lunched on falafel and pickles. It was the best falafel ever.