A moment of hedonism
It is 8pm in Baghdad. Sunset is in half an hour. It is 45 degrees on the beytuna - the highest part of the roof. I am sitting, enjoying the breeze, the feel of warm wind on my face. Underneath me, the plastic chair makes me sweat.
In my left hand is a snifter of Grand Marnier. I discovered a small caché of bottles at the BIAP duty-free shop a few days ago. In my right hand is a new pair of field glasses, found at the Camp Victory PX. 10x magnification, small size, nothing special. But fun to have.
There is a lot of activity on the roofs of Baghdad. An old man with white hair stands, shirt open. He is filling his water tank. The power is out, so the pump isn't working. He thought ahead and carried a few jugs up before. I see a woman with long, wavy, brown hair. She is walking, perhaps taking a break from her day. Women don't often go out without covering their hair, so it's a kind of voyeuristic moment to see this. She turns, perhaps about to catch me watching her, and I instinctively look away. I've forgotten the advantage the binoculars give.
I turn to climb down, and discover that it's a steep descent. The Grand Marnier is strong - it's frequently used for flambé - and it's gone to my head. I stare at the menarra of a nearby mosque, backlit by the setting sun. It is beautiful.
In my left hand is a snifter of Grand Marnier. I discovered a small caché of bottles at the BIAP duty-free shop a few days ago. In my right hand is a new pair of field glasses, found at the Camp Victory PX. 10x magnification, small size, nothing special. But fun to have.
There is a lot of activity on the roofs of Baghdad. An old man with white hair stands, shirt open. He is filling his water tank. The power is out, so the pump isn't working. He thought ahead and carried a few jugs up before. I see a woman with long, wavy, brown hair. She is walking, perhaps taking a break from her day. Women don't often go out without covering their hair, so it's a kind of voyeuristic moment to see this. She turns, perhaps about to catch me watching her, and I instinctively look away. I've forgotten the advantage the binoculars give.
I turn to climb down, and discover that it's a steep descent. The Grand Marnier is strong - it's frequently used for flambé - and it's gone to my head. I stare at the menarra of a nearby mosque, backlit by the setting sun. It is beautiful.