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10 July 2004
I have finally found the bridge!
At a cafe now in view of it, drinking a tiny cup of Turkish coffee so strong that my second one is making me have physical hallucinations. I feel like I am floating, floating over this azure-turquoise Neretva.
Over the bridge are draped a hundred white flags, shimmering in the sun as if woven with glass. I just realized this is a beautiful fucking city.
Last evening, between hard dozes on the pull out couch of a rented room, I heard the minarets project their prayers like birds, like women deep in centuries of song. It was half trance and half dream. The swaying and swaying of that foreign tongue, the words to a song I'll never know, alluring me to its source like nothing before, like no church bell. The bells of Europe have been shattered, held prisoner, silenced. But the voice of a man can be eternalized until the extermination of his race, and its presence is a symbol of pride, or survival.
With those sounds, those calls swaying across the rooftops I closed my eyes I was carried away somewhere beyond dreams, somewhere I am driven to discover, an idea, a glimpse into a voice into a testament of survival, not akin to any one race, brotherhood, language - but to Man - to defiance in the face of the steel toed Darwinian boot driving the shell and mortar lottery, the trigger ignitor that will be the extinction of us all, one day, one day after even all the Gods have killed each other off with books and bookburnings it will only be Darwin's boot left to look at the world, to watch the empty cinema.
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