Baghdad Burning
Out on the roof, the heat was palpitating off of everything in waves. The strange thing is that if you stand in the center, you can feel it emanating from the walls and ground toward you from all directions. I stood there trying to determine whether it was only our area, or the whole city, that had sunk into darkness. A few moments later, my younger brother (we'll call him E.) joined me- disheveled, disgruntled and half-asleep. We stood leaning on the low wall enclosing the roof watching the street below. I could see the tip of Abu Maan's cigarette glowing in the yard next door. I pointed to it with the words, "Abu Maan can't sleep either ..." E. grunted with the words, "It's probably Maan". I stood staring at him like he was half-wild- or maybe talking in his sleep. Maan is only ... how is he smoking? How can he be smoking? "He's only 13." I stated. "Is anyone only 13 anymore?" he asked. I mulled the reality of this remark over. No, no one is 13 anymore. No one is 24 anymore ... everyone is 85 and I think I might be 105.
[Quelle: Baghdad Burning]
[Quelle: Baghdad Burning]