“During our day-long retreat across the treacherous landscape of crumbling concrete slabs and bridges, we spent a lot of explosives. We were blowing up one roll after another, level after level of concrete, floors after floors — as Captain Napier put it with his black humor, “creating jobs for janitors.” If the Four Wheelers want to get closer from this side, they have a choice: either to walk through the zaseka from twisted iron fittings sticking out of the still under-inhabited garbage, or to goose along the narrow path along which we retreated. The trail was now dotted with mines capable of throwing the burning wreckage of primitive four-wheeled vehicles a dozen meters into the air, as already found out by one unlucky motorist.