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The news in the paper is foggy;
It belongs in certain old days.
Right then, I would see them folded on my father's bookshelves and
covering trays and sandwiches with oily spots.
I have come to realize what they were when they assassinated a journalist.
We have not read the news in the paper.
"We, Arabs, need to be ruled by a fist of iron",
they said. "Democracy does not suit us. It is right there in History."
Then those words slipped in chunks you can almost smell:
and suddenly I remembered the journalist.
They chopped off his fingers.
He had reported news in the paper.