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Somewhere Only We Know

De Niro's Game (2006)
By Rawi Hage

Ten thousand bombs had landed, and I was waiting for George.
Ten thousand bombs had landed on Beirut, that crowded the city, and I was lying on a blue sofa covered with white sheets to protect it from dust and dirty feet.
It is time to leave, I was thinking to myself.
My mother's radio was on. It had been on since the start of the war, a radio with Rayovac batteries that lasted ten thousand years. My mother's radio was wrapped in a cheap, green plastic cover, with holes in it, smudged with the residue of her cooking finger and dust that penetrated its knobs, clinched against its edges. Nothing ever stopped those melancholic Fairuz songs that came out of it.
I was not escaping the war; I was running away from Fairuz, the notorious singer.

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