The following article was published in N-SPHERE February 2011 issue.


Beside the fountain he stopped to sneak back into the onetrack mind of the infidel in him. The tormenting duality left him drained and out of focus, with the same old petty wondering through the meanders of the same old “nothing”.

“You’re pale. You could say that something or someone devours you from the inside… yet again. Or may it be that your illusion is coming to an end?” “Yes… Come… I feel your treacherous claw crawling up my chest and squeezing. I recognize the slow insinuation in my mind. The horrid odor takes me back to a sunny day… I feel like we’re on borrowed time already. But I’m too spineless to say it out loud.” “I don’t recall seeing you in a different state other than misplaced and disoriented, oblivious and alone… And even now you don’t try to come to terms with whatever happened to you, and move on. You could have been so much more than what you are” “Perhaps it is not all lost.”

And as the architecture of his sanity slowly collapses, and without so much as an empty crypt to rest for a while, he’s not ready to lead vast armies of innocent souls into the holy war. The infernal gate of a concentration camp only known to him opens wide, leaving him paralyzed with awe and wonder. Extermination is the new standing order, fresh pages of the genocide being written every day on parchment skins, and engraved on the barbed wire jewelry.

“I know I can’t go back, but set me free nonetheless. This is how our winter should look like.”

text & artwork by Bahak B

Full article here.