circles 2

When the centre of gravity of life is placed, not in life itself, but in “the beyond”–in nothingness–then one has taken away its centre of gravity altogether. The vast lie of personal immortality destroys all reason, all natural instinct–henceforth, everything in the instincts that is beneficial, that fosters life and that safeguards the future is a cause of suspicion. So to live that life no longer has any meaning: this is now the “meaning” of life. . . .

- friedrich nietzsche, the antichrist, chapter 43

*

possibly related

circles

the bird circles and circles and circles
and with each turn rises and rises and rises
until it is as a tiny dot in the big blue sky
and then it disappears in a brilliant flash of light
and is no more.

timezones

she tears open the plastic bag containing the blanket which as always is too small to cover her entire body and pulls it over her shoulders. this leaves her legs uncovered. she tilts her head sideways until it touches the side of the window and while the song ‘read my mind’ by the killers is drowning the silent hum of the plane engines, she tries to take a nap. the plane is full. she thinks back to her street in izmir, and her restless mind races forth to her destination in delhi and the man who waits. the plane has been flying for a few hours and the little screen in front of her is showing the travel route. a graceful curving line on the map connects istanbul to delhi, and a tiny vector-like plane indicates their current location, which is some country she has never been to. once again the head of the heavyset man next to her droops and touches her shoulder. she is annoyed but lets him be. ‘long airplane journeys, like dirty politics, make for strange bedfellows,’ she thinks to herself and smiles.

*

she stretches her hand and takes the rolled up ciggarette and takes a puff. then another. it tastes of burnt paper and an odd, distant hint of of smell she normally associates with school textbooks. textbooks she let go of when it was determined she was too old to bother anymore. while she is smoking up pages of mathematics and fragments of her dreams, her friend laying next to her stretches her hand and traces the outline of clouds in the sky. that one is a rabbit, she thinks. ‘what if someone is watching us right now?’ she asks her. she takes one more puff on their make-believe roll of paper ciggarette and passes it to her. ‘don’t be silly – where we are now, no one can see us but god, and he is not interested in your bush.’
-’but they might have binoculars and might be looking from right over that mountain.’ and she lowers her hand to point across the plain.
-’right, and your owlish cousin might find a wife and afghanistan might find peace and i am an elephant with two giant ears the shape of lettuce leaves… now give me that.’ she snaps and reaches for the ciggarette again. they have just returned from skinny dipping in the pond by the hill and as their flock of sheep grazes by the hillside and the multicolored items of their clothing flutter on the twigs of thornbushes, they have chosen the highest slab of rock to lay down upon, with their naked backsides to the pleasant warmth of the boulder warmed by midday sun.

*
he rubs the backside of his hand against his forehead and sweat and dust comes off. he hears the plane overhead and stands up and adjusts the white cap on his head. his back aches and he holds it and bends back until he hears it creak. he drops the sickle and traces the plane and its tail across the sky with his eyes. as he is doing this, the side of his eyes catch a shade of green flying in the wind out in the distance by the hills. he turns to see and makes the outline of tattered and multicolored flags in the wind and thinks: martyrs. then he deliberately raises both his hands, makes up an imaginary rifle with them, and pulls the trigger: ‘tkhewww.’

*

as they lay with their backs to the rock, a plane flies overhead and draws a long, white, and ever-expanding tail behind it in the sky. a big, graceful arch that expands and then dissolves. her hand instinctivley reaches to cover her privates. the plane is a turkish airlines flight from istanbul to delhi and is full. the most heavyset man on the plane is seated next to the girl with the most beautiful neckline. as they lay in this state with his head on her shoulder and her head on the side of the window, and each dreaming a different dream -one of loads of money and the other of true love- the two snore in sync.

an air of hopeful expectancy

Yes, all about is life and an air of hopeful expectancy, and the beginning (we Americans each in our own humbel way fervently pray) of a new Afghanistan rising from out of the mysteries of forgotten centuries to become truly a modern “Star of Asia.”

(an excerpt from the 1950s book “afghanistan venture” by one paul s. jones, an american engineer working at the time in helmand with the morrison knudson engineering firm, cited by film makber adam curtis in a truly fascinating series on afghanistan’s strange history.)

در انتظارِ خربوزه

در انتظارِ خربوزه

waiting for the melon

*

(it’s a long story)

Sunset on the Sun Island, Maldives

Sunset on the Sun Island, Maldives, originally uploaded by From Afghanistan With Loveّ.

(December, 2009)

سبد

و بیاریم سبد
ببریم این همه سرخ، این همه سبز

سهراب سپهری-

sometimes

sometimes the snow comes down in june.

-vanessa williams, 1992, comfort zone (album)

دُرِ سُفته: چهل و هفت – طلب لعل و گهر

طالب لعل و گهر نیست وگرنه خورشید
همچنان در عمل معدن و کانست که بود

حافظ-

a has-been-town

there are places that are ‘happening’. then there are sleepy towns that never did pick up. and still then, there are those places that used to be, but are no more.
i call these “has been” towns.
and pul-i-khumri in the north of afghanistan -the provincial center of baghlaan province- is a has-been-town true to definition.
the other place in my experience that fits this typology is pittsburgh, pennsylvania. once prosperous and happening on the back of the steel mills and shipyards, a late night walk through this concrete jungle on an autumn evening in 2005, revealed it to definitely be a has-been town.

(post first composed -never posted- on august 4, 2008 after a visit to pul-i-khumri.)

Last edited by safrang on July 28, 2008 at 12:55 pm