Yesterday and Today
You are sitting in a popular street-side cafe, sipping mint tea from a glass cup, playing a never-ending game of shesh besh. You gaze across the table. Your friend carefully considers the board. He smiles a toothy grin as he double-sixes and moves his pieces out of danger. You roll the dice.
The electronics shop opposite you, the one with the over-sized "Panasonic" sign, seems quite out of place, squeezed between a store selling hookahs and a spice shop displaying large sacks of cumin powder, turmeric and fennel seeds.
The crowded street is a circus of color. Of course, you are used to the noise and commotion. Tourists take photos of the pack-saddled camels and their turbaned riders, to which you barely pay attention. You are more interested in the shiny Hummer SUV lumbering elephant-like through the throng of pedestrians, animals and rusty pick-up trucks.
A half-blind beggar shakes a rusty can in your face. You turn him away, knowing that, on a good day, he probably makes more money than you do. The dice are not in your favor and you sigh. You reach into your pocket and hand your friend a few coins in good-humored defeat. No matter. You are content to sit in the shade, watching the bustling activity of the passing parade.
That was yesterday.
Today you are cowering in a dank, overcrowded basement, clutching a Helwan 9mm pistol to your chest, surrounded by the intermittent crack of gunfire, the screech of tires and the jarring sound of breaking glass.
The government switched off the Internet. No wonder they are rioting.
The electronics shop opposite you, the one with the over-sized "Panasonic" sign, seems quite out of place, squeezed between a store selling hookahs and a spice shop displaying large sacks of cumin powder, turmeric and fennel seeds.
The crowded street is a circus of color. Of course, you are used to the noise and commotion. Tourists take photos of the pack-saddled camels and their turbaned riders, to which you barely pay attention. You are more interested in the shiny Hummer SUV lumbering elephant-like through the throng of pedestrians, animals and rusty pick-up trucks.
A half-blind beggar shakes a rusty can in your face. You turn him away, knowing that, on a good day, he probably makes more money than you do. The dice are not in your favor and you sigh. You reach into your pocket and hand your friend a few coins in good-humored defeat. No matter. You are content to sit in the shade, watching the bustling activity of the passing parade.
That was yesterday.
Today you are cowering in a dank, overcrowded basement, clutching a Helwan 9mm pistol to your chest, surrounded by the intermittent crack of gunfire, the screech of tires and the jarring sound of breaking glass.
The government switched off the Internet. No wonder they are rioting.
Nice piece of writing. Until the last line, I thought you were talking about RBS! ;)
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