"The city of lights is a myth"

The city of lights is a myth. All that is left is propaganda and capitalist masks. Tourists marching slowly to Paris's death parade : the squeaking of a tired accordion.

The true face of Paris is in its blighted neighborhoods. The revenge of a colonial past. I am a Moroccan youth.

I cannot go I cannot stay.

There is a struggle. Against alienation, a struggle with identity. The struggle has left the buildings and spilled out into the streets, overflowing like sewage after months of rain. The television lies, calls for complacency.

The coffee is expensive, conversation is abrupt, contact is limited to the rubbing of shoulders between strangers. The shining lights slowly fade away, the cafes board up their doors, the intellectuals go to bed. There are many like me. We are not known to the city, and it cares not for us.

I will put on my own mask, and recreate Paris.

--My friend Ali, a Bahraini architect who studied in the US, writes poetry when he's not designing buildings. He studied abroad in Paris earlier this year.

An Iraqi in Paris

Samuel Shimon is an Iraqi author who recently released his debut novel An Iraqi in Paris. He was interviewed for next month's issue of World Literature Today, produced by my alma mater The University of Oklahoma. This quote caught my attention:

SS: It is said that Paris is the city of fashion and beauty, but for me it is the city of compassion par excellence. I do not think I could have lived in any other city the way I lived in Paris.

As I mentioned in my answer to your first question, those who tortured me were security and intelligence men, working for their Arab regimes. As for the Arabs I met in Paris; they were running away from those lousy regimes. Others were immigrants who had, to a certain degree, integrated into French society. Besides the French, who were generous and kind to me for the most part, I had strong ties to the Algerian community of Paris. Here I would like to point out that many Arabs consider the Algerians to be rough and gruff, but that is not true at all.

In my experience, the Algerians are very kind and loving people. They were always very kind to me and always welcomed me into their homes, despite the fact that I am not a Muslim and am always very critical—to the point of being sarcastic—of the traditions of Islam. They were never offended even though I was a regular guest of theirs and was being disrespectful. The Algerians are principled and tend to be straightforward. They also take special pride in and care of their friendships.