Late afternoon on Jalan Sultan the Chinese albino had it about right—a world of horror and nothing else, unable to be endured. Eyes clenched tight, shielding arm raised high and the other feeling his way along the shopfronts. It was torture right enough, the man likely knowing only the half of it. The rain had come down almost without cease the last 48 hours, puffer jacket needed against the aircon in the library and Helen’s big payung, which even so was unable to protect the cuffs of the trousers. There was hardly a squeak of light, yet the poor man was dreadfully assailed. One hundred the number of casualties in the renewed bombing in Gaza according to the initial reports, climbing in increments from there into the 2- 3- & 400s. Zainuddin fwd-ed a member of the Irish Parliament it must have been crying out against the inhumanity. For those who did not know such devastations from their own sources, their own race memory, the new-reports & photos could be stomached for many, many months more, years in fact.
No comments:
Post a Comment