And death is ever more familiar". These days, this line of poetry by Soebagio Sastrowardojo keeps coming back into my head: a eulogy for someone killed, or a phrase of submission towards an inevitability, namely death which conceals uncertainty? These days I am constantly imagining how a few people came, calm and neat, to commit suicide, to kill others...Truly, I imagine Muhammad Atta—or whatever his name was—together with his friends,...