i somehow found myself in the middle of all the *action* this weekend. the soundtrack was RPGs, gunshots, and an assortment of specialists on TV bestowing their opinions. fat and skin hung over their shirt collars.
my cousin and i were alone and trapped in the house for three days, with these sounds, neighboring snipers, and these opinionated men. by the third day they all became the same; best navy blue suits, best persuasive-face on, gravelly voices exhausting. i drew some of them as they spoke. perhaps i was trying to separate them. because by Monday the news was discussed by things and not people. newsy Arabic was an ugly rhapsody. Beirut was something to pity.