20 mai 2008 Un commentaire

The other side…

Grilled meat and spices stinks, colors to throw up…
Insane sounds, masked faces, verminous smiles…

In the distance, threatening shadows, jellabas with multiple colors.
“Look at their hands!”
We feign transparency, the crowd the ignorance…

We control the adjacent streets to protect these rats.
Everyone makes the same gestures, like an insect, like a machine.

Jackson goes first, he targets the rooftops, then that’s me, I target the alley.
That horns, that stinks, that squeals.

The place turns into an arena.
I am a praetorian, you’re a gladiator, she’s a sacrifice.
He’s a big cat, we are the swords, you are the blood, they are all dead.
The circus market.
Recently, the melody of the helicopters , as a Greek siren, plays her Rock’N'Roll.

“But what does Omar, this fucking interpreter, nobody to cover me…
Omar ? Omar ?”

“The adrenaline explodes in my head, the lieutenant shows me the place, with a chin sign. I look back, without a word, like a robot.
The emergency, the danger everywhere, we must act quickly…”

“Omaaar ??? Omaaar ?”

“And then I see him, I see his eyes full of gall, his face from hate tenses, he opens his mouth, seems to want to scream.
At his side, a child turn his back…
What the fucking hell ! I do not think, I target and I shoot.”

BOOM !

Omar disappeared, sprayed, they fall…
The stalls are flying in the air, members, tears, the rats also…
Destroyed sounds…
The extreme violence…
The subtle pleasure…
The fire, the smells …
Red and black are the only colors !

“I exult, no losses on our side, the lieutenant gives me a pat on the back.
Good job ! Good job !
Omar has disappeared, the child also…
I noticed a woman sitting, grotesque, screaming and clinging to her basket.
Around her, humans remains, I have nausea.
Remains of innocents ? Remains of the terrorist? Those of the child?
I forget that thought, they have broken the rules. I just do my duty, is not me who’ve killed him, it’s Omar !”

“ I think on my daughter at home. Just two months of this hell and I could take her in my arms. I would like to hug her, play with her to the play-station.”

“No fatalities, no friends name under the heading Iraq / casualties, no black bag, just cursed images forever engraved in what remains of our consciences…”

“I hate this country !”

To the scene 3

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