March 2003  
       
 

I leave the room with flowered curtains to which I will never return.
But maybe to the city.
The eternal.
Where thousands of rainbow-coloured flags slouched in the windows, like a last desperate protest against the madness.
The city disappears slowly down under me and everything turns into white.
I am in a strange void between here and there.
This is the day when the bombers start flying over Bagdad.
Yet another war and the world is holding its breath.
Later the journey continues on a road right into the darkness. The landscape passing in a flicker.
Black and silent woods surround me like a big bubble.
But reality keeps intruding.
Radio voices. Program deleted because of the war. Air-raid alarms. Missiles. Bombs falling.
Excited voices trying to explain what is happening.
Someone already talks about the reconstruction work,
saying that now we have to look forward.