in bagdad, i am at a house and there are fields around me, and i am visiting to write but the area is not secure. i see the armies march, in form, they are good at this, i think. and i turn around to hear the bombs going off, and the bombs are far away. there is an order given to sleep, and they, in form, lie down in rows and columns, and simultaneously snuggle their knees to their faces, and they sleep. it is mid-day, and i am amazed at their ability to take to order.

they come in and they secure the area for us, and we make our places in this house. we are teachers, writers, and we are new here. we are being tested to see if we can stay, to see if we can stand it. and i am not new; i had been here before they came. i know this place.

they had secured the area but suddenly it is not secure anymore and we are in danger, on this top floor where we are sleeping, and they are coming in and they will surely get us. i do not understand their sounds nor they mine, but i always thing i can reason with them. ‘i think i can reason with them,’ i think. they will kill me.

i see the troop movement outside; they are attempting to regain control, but the house has been stormed, and i thought for a brief second i could hide, but i couldn’t hide. and i thought i could reason with them, but there was no reason here.

this was not a dream not a

this was happening somewhere on earth. this was true to somebody not me