The Legend of Linda Part 1: Sinister Ambition

For a good formation of the man, the boy needs to be taken as early as possible from the family. It is a harmful place, like the Chernobyl nuclear plant.
Eduard Limonov

Linda here. It is my task now to tell the story of how I became what I am. It all started in Summer 122 yf, I was 18 and was on vacation in England all by myself. I wanted to learn to handle myself abroad independent from mom and dad – I wanted to become truly a woman.

London was great, delightfully quirky in its instances of almost parodic Britishness fused with a muscular multiculturalism that brings Gothenburg to shame, let alone Sweden altogether. I was raised by Kurdish Communist parents who had sought refuge in Sweden from Iranian clerical persecution, so I have always been left-wing and noticed with a vengeance the acute class differences in British society. The proletarians really had their own society, with its own culture and ethos distinct from that of the British cosmopolitans, whom I was more like. This greatly disturbed me back then, for I clearly identified myself as a champion of the Proletariat and had always been politically active since long before I had my first period.

In any case, during my English Pilgrimage I also visited Sheffield, Wakefield and Leeds, all cities in “God’s Own County”, namely Yorkshire. When I had reached Leeds I went to a tavern called The Black Prince and ordered something random, then I sat on a pedestal in front of the bar. I checked my stark white iPhone 4 for any nearby hotel to check-in for the night. While doing so, I catched a glimpse from the corner of my eye of a figure and got curious. That’s when I saw him the first time.

He was handsome yet rugged, as if he were a model who had served in the Brish military, or a Calvin Klein model turned football hooligan. Before I could react he noticed me ogling him and there was eye contact. His eyes were flirtatious yet betrayed a sinister quintessence, I dared not turn my eyes from him. I was petrified. I was terrified. I was aroused. He moved his whole being closer to me as if he was gliding through floor, or so it seemed, and he told me

You must be Kurdish, aren’t you?

Yeah, I am … How would you know?

Your face just screams Kurdistan.

This proves without doubt that if you’re sexy and confident a man, you can say the corniest shit ever and still score. For not only does my face scream Kurdistan, that night my face screamed his name.

The Legend of Linda Part 1: Sinister Ambition

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