A dictator, hiding behind a nihilist’s mask, has killed and killed and killed, pillaged and wasted, but is afraid, he claims, to kill a sparrow. His smiling picture is everywhere: in the coffeehouse, in the brothel, in the nightclub, and the marketplace. Satan used to be an original, now he is just the dictator’s shadow. […] The dictator hides his disgraced face in the mud. Now he is having a taste of his own medicine, and the pillars of deception have collapsed, his picture is now underfoot, trampled by history’s worn shoes. The deposed dictator is executed in exile, another monster is crowned in the hapless homeland. The hourglass restarts, counting the breaths of the new dictator, lurking everywhere, in the coffeehouse, the brothel, in the nightclub, and the marketplace.…
