I posted an excerpt of Enayat on my story, and one of my old college classmates messaged me, “Did you know my mom wrote this book?” I didn’t. I told him to tell her I was a fan of the book. I sat for a while and wondered about obsession.
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She has bound herself to listening and has been careful not to speak for her subjects. Even the very act of stealing the camera is part of this redressing.
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A nylon bag dances across the gravel lot, crinkling, and the camera follows it. A gust of wind, caught on camera as a swirl of dust moving from right to left. Aljafari zooms in and follows the swirl, repeating the gesture a few times. Every day, at 5:13 am, a man in a checkered shirt walks across the lot to catch a bus.
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