Last week’s dust storm left us with a taste of the desert in our mouth. We ate and drank with a dust flavor. It was a reminder of the nature of the place, and that here near the Tigris for thousands of years, people gathered in tents. It was a transit home for the Bedouins.
And for many of us, the embassy draws that similarity of a transit place in the journey of our lives. It has a feeling of mobility that offers an imaginative power to overcome our irresistible mood of stagnation and confinement at work and room – a paradox that exists in such a liminal place.
But there is poetry on the Cornice – in the everyday walk. We walk on a street that is a miraculous expression were East meets West in the middle of Baghdad.
On this post, a sense of friendship maybe easier to develop than in the city where we come from, and what we have in common with each other can be larger than what separates us. It is simple. In a different way became our new home for those who left home for a noble reason and remained here for years.
This was an invitation I sent for people to come again to the Cornice and experience that dichotomy. And add a night of music to the One Thousand and One Nights of our life.
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