Selina pulls on the ties to her headscarf as the world falls down around her; her trembling fingers push it back exposing her close-cropped scalp to the heat, Dust and debris that settles in a holy act of violence; a blessing in blood and destruction.
A single line of kohl, turned liquid by the vision of her world destroyed, runs down her cheek; a black river that will never reach the sea.
A cannonade of lost prayers falls from her lips to gather in the dust at her feet, unnoticed by the dismembered and mutilated children left there to stare with blank eyes at a sky streaked with chemical trails and fury shrieks.
Selina walks the last ten metres to the doorway where seconds before he had stood, now gone forever to nothing, not even statistics.

Tales for an attention deficit world