I'm in a public square or market in a Middle Eastern city. There are people about and children playing. A boy has a bottle on a string. He's swinging the bottle back and forth to amuse himself. But I'm very alarmed because the police are very strict and they will crack down fiercely on this because it looks like a Molotov cocktail. I yell at him to stop.
Others have already noticed and are scurrying for cover. I yell once more, but then I run toward a stand of books and hide behind it. There's also an exercise bike behind it, so I hide behind that, hoping the two will give even more protection.
A few seconds later the shooting begins. It's heavy machine gun fire. I feel it pounding the shelf in front of me. They're standing in the center of the square and firing in all directions. If anyone was left there, they are gone. The shooting goes on for seconds and more seconds and then minutes. I'm waiting for a sign that the bullets are penetrating, but they're not. I do not feel scared, though, because the stand is intact, and I know the police will not go behind the stand to find me.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
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