futurekabul + need for kindness

i checked the hit counters and saw that the following two old posts have received many visitors… and so of course i went back to read them. they are alright. and until i return to the free form of writing that used to happen here, i offer them for your enjoyment and amusement if you have not already read them. here are the teasers:


> of fragility of life here and the need for kindness
As it happens, this night I received another visitation from my melancholy mistress of ‎long, dressed as ever in her terrorizing black and with her luscious black mane undone ‎and wild and oh so long. You guessed it right (or did you? all ye of dirty minds and little ‎literary imaginations), it was another bout with insomnia. ‎
And on this encounter, my melancholy muse tells me about all that I have to fear. About ‎the many reasons why ‎بیرون کشید باید از این ورطه رخت خویش ‏‎ is the right course of action, ‎and why one ought to abandon ship and flee town and take refuge someplace less deadly. ‎And being the reigning regina of my dark hours, in the thick of darkness her counsel seems ‎compelling…
…As the feel for danger seems to wither away with the darkness of the hours, so does ‎the softness of hearts, and they harden and freeze into unkind and unforgiving solids. ‎How is it that with things balanced so precariously on the edge, and life more fragile than ‎ever, people can still be unkind to each other?
…“god damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”
-kurt vonnegut
continue reading “of fragility of life…”



> a futuristic vision of kabul, titled aurelie:
it is 2079 and kabul is a post-industrial wasteland and an international city. not the kind ‎of international city that this word brings to mind -not the clean urban metropoles of ‎berlin and shanghai and dubai (actually remove dubai from the list -it is a horribly candy-‎like disneyland with no characters of a great city.) anyhow, back to kabul of 2079 (and by ‎some fluke of nature i am only in my early 30s) -the city is a confusing jumble ‎overwhelmed by concrete gray and sooth-black. like that scene from the matrix where ‎morpheus takes neo inside and they emerge on two red couches in the middle of a ‎wasteland, a moonscape, that is the real world outside the machine. that’s kabul in 2079. ‎and people of all backgrounds wander in it with dirty two-day stubbles and kafiyas ‎wrapped around their necks, smoking and caughing and with dishevelled hair and ‎apperances. not the friendly, clean, and health obsessed and security conscious expats of ‎the good old days of early 2000s. i see all the concrete and sooth and tar and darkness and ‎doom and think to myself: “so… all that ‘reconstruction and development’ that we were all ‎so worried about in the early 2000s finally worked… before it did not work and left kabul ‎like this..” i walk around the labyrinth of tall, grey structures… in some back alleys i see ‎characters with no identity and no giveaway of nationality gathering around fires in ‎empty kerosene barrels warming their hands and smoking cigarettes. all kafiyas. all ‎dishevelled hairs. all out of order appearances. all deranged looks in the eyes. who are all ‎these people? they are the internationals of the late second millenium. they are the ‎castaways of our post-modern world. no language. no identity. all a mix of accented ‎english language.
continue reading “aurelie”


as for me? back to the docks…


~ by safrang on February 10, 2009.

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