More on this book
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Often knowledge struck me as similar to the knife trick: just a mysterious absurdity or merely a pleasant game.
As usual, the Baathists took the bodies and left the stakes in place to remind everyone of what had happened. My father had come to the square to take me to the cinema. He was crazy about Indian films. When he saw that one goal was missing an upright he realized we had taken the stakes to make the goals. Traces of blood had dried on the wood. My father broke down when one of the children said, ‘We’re still missing one goalpost. Maybe they’ll execute another one and we can have the stake.’