Mosul: May, 1980

Abdel wakes me on his way to the bathroom, the hiss of his slippers against the sandy floor.  There is always sand; it seeps in under the door, gets carried in on our feet and clothes.  We used to sweep daily and dust and mop on Thursdays, the start of the Muslim...

Arts Interlude: Ellisha Blackburn

The thing that worried him most was the fact that people always used to ask him what he was looking so worried about.* What’s there to worry about, he’d mutter as he scuttled about the cage, sniffing out overlooked pellets. I’ve got food, I’ve got water, I have a...