Sunday, July 17, 2011


The rains withhold themselves, and the weather gets humid and terribly hot. we stop depending on our desert coolers and our electricity bills go up with the airconditioner. But our gardens do well now that the blistering heat of April May and June are over. Its the season of bombs again, amputated bodies appear on the morning newspapers, looking like ancient Greek fields of war.  Each dead person has a mother, father, baby born or unborn, sisters, brothers, husband, wife or friends and a detailed autobiography of events, loves, and a murmuring heart now silenced. Its war by any name, and all death is to me an event never repeated.

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