Never Think About Her

The bright sunlight squeezed large drops of sweat from the old man’s forehead, but he still cupped his hands and held a cup of sweet, hot tea as if wanting to warm them. He could not withdraw himself from those premonitions. It kept wrapping itself around his back like cold mules. The excavation has been completed. The mound of ruins has been carefully sifted through each layer of soil. The artifacts lying in the mound were examined, tagged and hauled away: beads and chain jewelry; carved stone, statues, stone mortar blocks dotted with loess clay stains, polished jars. Nothing very special. An Assyrian ivory cosmetic box. And people. The remains of a man. These fragile relics of a cosmic agony once made him wonder if matter was the devil Lucifer’s restless striving to find his god. But now he knows better. The scent of licorice and willow trees urged him to look toward the hills, dotted with poppies; towards the reed fields; towards the branch of jagged stone road, I launched myself into the terrifying land. To the northwest is Mosul; to the east is Erbil; To the south are the cities of Bagdad and Kirkuk and the burning furnace of King Nabuchodonosor. He changed his position, his feet under the table in front of a lonely hut on the side of the road, and stared at the grass strands sticking to his boots and khaki pants. He sipped tea. The excavation has been completed. Is there something brewing? He brushed the thought away like dusting off a newly discovered clay artifact, but he couldn’t come up with a name for the idea. —- ISBN: 9798332665202