Wednesday, October 7, 2009
In the malevolent military days, in the hoodoo-haggard Afram Plains, a soldier cuffs a little old man, and sends him sprawling in the dust. The fouled elder has done nothing wrong. He utters not a word beyond his whimpers and tears. He picks up his scrawny body and crawls pitifully out of sight with a hideous, haunted look. Minutes later, the gloating gladiator starts shrieking and shivering. Before scores of irreligious eyes, the wailing warrior’s own shoulder is swallowing up his affronting arm. The shoulder-socket sucks in the muscled limb until only a forefinger and thumb are left hanging out.