Saturday 14 September 2013

Wednesday 4 September 2013

Sunday 1 September 2013

From A Tale of Extra Ordinary Madness

(By Mana Neyestani)
Then the singing starts; wordless, sweet harmonies as if in the presence of an impromptu, choral ensemble drowning out all other sounds and thoughts with its beatific song of ethereal delight; but with a barely discernable undertone of culpable discord.
I am swept away on the turbulent night breeze, away from my misery; away from the misery of others, the misery of the city veiled by bright neon signs flashing its deceptive welcome to those who can afford its vituperative charms. The decaying buildings which once housed the depraved and the masters, painted in fashionable, muted colours, with sand blasted glass and aged wood and shining chrome façades: home to the obliviously hip and happening.
The once impervious mountain mother, the majestic Hoerikwaggo, brought to its knees under the interrogator’s harsh, relentlessly brilliant white light despoiling the beautiful face of the city.
The electrified grid of streetlights stretches away across the flats to darker corners where a more blatant misery roams the alleys. Undisguised and often unacknowledged within the bustling, thumping conurbation where the blind reign supreme.
The driving bass beats are replaced by gunshots and screams and cries; the raging, manic silences that can no longer be penetrated or dispelled; the unvarying misery of the hopeless and the perpetually downtrodden.
 The sound of babies wailing and children sobbing, hungry mouths feeding on mucous and craving for a more substantial repast.