When this pandemic is over and there are still people alive traumatized and scratching around for hope, or on the contrary, when this pandemic is over, death has declined, economic destruction has ended, and life is more peaceful, one name will be inscribed in thick letters: China.
A boring town: Oran. Or a small town that might be the very definition of boredom: no doves, no trees, no parks and rustling leaves. People work, make love and die with the same monotony. There is no drama.
Back in those days, I would listen to my mother’s stories as she lulled the children to sleep. She knew that sleep was investment for a fresh new day. In the 20th century, stories had become ‘technology’.
Three bullets fired into Gandhi’s emaciated body, at close range. The assassin was trying to change India’s history. He failed—or at least he failed at that moment. Because today we are wondering whether that long submerged hatred can ever change.
FLOODWATERS dragging and tossing cars, motorbikes and furniture, smashing house walls, destroying electricity lines, killing people… No, this is not tsunami scale disaster, but, for the umpteenth time it is rain, rivers and the sea upsetting Jakarta. The city is crumbling.