Spillet af: Jhez Salin

In A Slow-Burning Hell

By Tania Clarke

Burning for too many years, burned out by the uncaring ignorance of the “civilized” world
I met Phil Hardin in the Hotel Commodore in Beirut. A charismatic man weary, tired and sick to the soul with the lack of care of his readers…

United yet parted

By Tania Clarke

My fiancée is the daughter of my fathers best friend. She lives on the other side. In 14 days, we will be married – but still living apart. The young man, still haunted by being abducted by the militzia and forced to serve as a soldier, having seen his friends torn apart by bullets, is smiling at the thought of his bride to be – but his eyes are shaded by the knowledge that they will not be able to spend their honeymoon together…
The fiancée came through the shadows of the night to be united with her beloved for just a few hours. Moving through a warzone, daring the hellish streets of warridden Beirut for a glimpse of her love.

Horrors litter the streets

By Tania Clarke

As we leave the hotel, taken down small alleys, an explosion rock the car. Behind the house of the family lie the broken bodies of two men, shot yesterday. The young man who is going to be married in 14 days, is slowly digging graves in the backyard to get the bodies into the ground, bodies that are already putrified and rotting after 2 days in the burning Libanese sun

Future for my children

By Tania Clarke

What is the future for my children, he asks. He was a teacher at the university until it was torn apart by a bomb. Now he works at the hotel, trying to keep his three wives and 11 children fed and clothed, and in relative safety. But what is the future of these children? Will they be able to learn to speak foreign languages, apart from the English he can teach them? Will any of the be able to get a college degree? Will they have a job? Will they even live to be grown, to have children of their own?

Hizbollah and the weapons

By Tania Clarke

Connection between Hizbollah and western country, weaponstrade?

What about Nick?

By Tania Clarke

Nick Moore disappeared. He was abducted from a car, his driver shot. And nobody knows what is his fate. But to some, his disappearance is what they wanted. Some, who live off tragedy and horror. Some like us… journalists, at least on the surface. Maggots, feeding of the bodies of the dead, to me…Was it the story behind the abduction?

__________________________
Diary:
Where is the story? Is it Nick, disappearing? Reckless, careless? Or is it the pain of the children? Or the weary tired journalist who is relentlessly trying to make an uncaring public listen to his stories? I don’t know.
___________________________