Reading Italo, I see Italian youths preparing to swim while il Duce prepares for war. At home, on our couch, while afternoon leisure blends with our tea, a reporter speaks to a background of song: Australia may soon be under attack. The words overlap with piano and strings and my mind hears, I am titanium.
Now it happens in places with names we know: near streets we have walked, in stadiums and concert halls, in coffee shops, where violence never breathed before, where we were safe. Now we look for signs of links to Syria, to al-Assad, ISIL, and cells which fire. Nothing has prepared us, yet to others thisContinue reading “Damascus Road: Paris Interlude”