In Al Alawi, and all of a sudden, we heard a bullet firing. One bullet. The bus driver stopped. We saw people walking behind a car, and above the car there was a rectangular wooden box wrapped by an Iraqi flag. People were walking silently but little fast. The bus driver declared: “the road is blocked by those people. I will go back.” Silently we examined what we can do, should we go back to our houses with the driver or should we go walking to work. All of us went down from the buss and went walking toward the gathering. It was a funeral to a martyr of yesterday’s explosion. People on the sides of the road were waving goodbye to the flag wrapped wooden box. I got little stressed as I enter into the gathering and wondered about the possibility of an explosion occurring in the crowd. I took a relatively silent place and phoned to work to tell them that I would be late. I changed my way to one of the governmental institutions to start that retarded bizarre symphony of cycle of bureaucracy. In that cycle I would go round and round, back and forth, between different institutes to finally get what I wanted after one or two months. Hot summer months. Anyway, today was a quick start.
not sure about the name of the cartoonist
Reaching the work late was great since I knew that I got a “partial” off from work before the exam so that I got my mind rearranged, and my studying concentrated. Newspapers were gathered at the table and the cultural supplement of Al Sabah (=The Morning) Newspaper contained two caricatures:
"the patient says to the doctor: Doctor, I am afraid that all the promises I heard during the elections would come true.... my heart would not withstand the shock!! The doctor answers: Regarding this subject, don't worry!". the cartoonist Khudayir Al Himyari.
In the way back to home, I passed from that same point I pass since about one year and a half, that area where the bridge fence is missing. Since about 6 months it is covered by ugly barbed wire mesh:
When I was to take the minibus back to home, I stopped and looked at the color of the sky and felt that its color is so strange, a mixture of dust, clouds, and pollusion. How much I hoped it would rain:
At home I took my tea cup and went to the balcony. I found the birds had eaten the leaves of the new plant, Zinnia. Rain started heavily and aromas arose. I forgave the birds for their mischievous deed.