The News

Somewhere there’s a woman elbow deep in another human’s blood, scalpel in hand, her brow roiling with sweat. She is an expert. She has trained herĀ entire adult life to carry out these delicate maneuvers, investing countless hours in study and hard won practice, living for her victories, raging against her defeats.

Somewhere there’s a cluster of men in a humvee, scared and fatigued, rolling down a sun drenched street. The dust of their tires is the only evidence of their passage. Each pile of refuse that slides by their sandy windows may mean death, each inquisitive face that turns to watch their progress must be assessed to be friend or enemy, with little room for error.

Somewhere there’s a Mother who has just made the hardest choice of her life, having crept into the silence of suburbia in late morning. She is waiting at a bus stop with all she has in the world – a baby carrier, two small pieces of luggage, and a black eye.

Somewhere there’s a rich, self-important golfer, holding a press conference.