Tim Barrus by Nizar

GoPro

I am simply showing him how to hold the camera.

Only fools, Nizar.

Hands touch.

Hold the camera, boy. Just still enough.

A planet stops.

These were the hands that crawled from rubble. Tore away at it.

“To the light,” he says. Wiping his eyes of blood and dust from pulverized cement.

I actually have no clue what he’s saying. I pretend he is saying whatever I want him to say.

He probably wants to know what’s for lunch.

My personal guinea pig.

But what happened after the crawling out.

No response.

He is still crawling out. I can see it in my head. Neighbors running. Barrel bombs.

It could be that he will always be crawling out.

The name Aleppo will always mean something none of us can ever know.

Martin jerks me back. He yanks my shirt.

“He won’t survive, you know. Anyone turning tricks like he does in Athens is headed for a plane crash.”

“Martin, the rest of us are already a plane crash. I’m just in awe. That anyone could walk out of that.”

I am tired of this place, I hope people change/

I need time to replace what I gave away/

And my hopes, they are high, I must keep them small/

Though I try to resist I still want it all/

I see swimming pools and living rooms and aeroplanes/

I see a little house on the hill and children’s names/

Only fools fall for you, only fools

Only fools do what I do, only fools fall

Only fools fall for you, only fools

Only fools do what I do, only fools fall