The Arsonists' City

by Hala Alyan

Films make people sad, Mazna is slowly understanding. They remind people of a time that is over or a time they’ve never been part of. Even the happier films, like Sabrina and The Wizard of Oz, sadden her; she will never go to those glossy dinner parties, see those Technicolor skies. Theater is the same. It’s heartbreaking because it will end, because people will become a part of the story and then be abandoned by it.

Half the things the politicians say are lies.” “It’s true to them. It’s been said enough times to become true. I could stand out here and say, ‘That tree over there is purple’ thousands and thousands of times and refuse to listen to anybody, and eventually—” “The tree would not become purple,” she interrupts. “No.” He smiles. “But it would to me. And that’s just as good.”