meehawl

all that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned

Cordon Insanitaire

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On the way into the city from the airport, we drove past the wreckage of a convoy that was still smoking off to the side of the road. A few drivers nearby accelerated to get away from the twisted frame. When our airport van passed it, the passengers became quiet and abandoned their excited chatter, hypnotized by the sight of the ruined trucks. I was struck that the United States, whose careful public relations campaign stressed the reconstruction of Iraq, could not even secure the road to the airport.

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