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The villagers were completely discombobulated. Most of them hadn’t even chosen their spouses, and now they were meant to choose who would govern them.
This was a very biting observation.
Louz had never bothered to beg old Jbara so he could run the nightly news, since, for a very long time now, the news had been a soap opera with a single episode, during which you saw the Handsome One parade around as journalists tried to come up with new ways to pay him homage.
They were the people, no rights but plenty of responsibility.
They left the café and their feet spontaneously led them to the voting booth. Erect, empty, and closed. A prefabricated unit that the canvassers had put together in barely two hours, and which was by far the most solid construction in the village. It even had a door and windows.
When in Walou, they never skipped a prayer because it was their only opportunity to wash
Of the bear it is said that when he goes to a beehive for honey and the bees begin to sting him, he forgets about the honey and concentrates on revenge; and, because he wishes to revenge himself on all the bees that sting him, he succeeds in revenging himself upon none of them. Whereupon his anger turns into rage and he throws himself on the ground helplessly clawing the air with his paws.
What fate could you promise a child brought into a world of grenades and submachine guns?
