Brief aus Bagdad
I pushed my way through the crowd and saw a hand, severed below the knuckles, sitting grotesquely on a green metal window shutter that had fallen on some steps. The hand was thick and gray, and its red-and-white guts, at the messily severed stump, spilled out like electrical circuitry from a cut cable. One young man crouched very close to it, his face just a couple of feet away. He stayed there, staring, for a long time. Someone told me that a man's brain was sitting on the floor just inside the nearest workshop door, but I didn't go to look at it.
Ill Winds, John Lee Anderson in seinem "Letter from Baghdad"
Ill Winds, John Lee Anderson in seinem "Letter from Baghdad"