Alexander Limarev, Expression of Streets (part 2)
Free World
Howie Good
With heads bowed as in silent prayer, but fingers locked behind our necks as if we were under arrest, we knelt facing the wall in a coldly lit corridor of Lakeside Elementary School, safe, they said, from the blast wave. We didn’t object or question. We didn’t admit fear or doubt. It was enough to be told throughout childhood that we lived in what they called the “Free World.” When minutes later the air raid drill was over, we marched in an orderly line like soldier ants back to our classroom. The world is still a funny kind of free. Whereas in Mexico they say “whiskey” to get people to smile for a photo, in the U.S. we say “money.”
Howie Good
With heads bowed as in silent prayer, but fingers locked behind our necks as if we were under arrest, we knelt facing the wall in a coldly lit corridor of Lakeside Elementary School, safe, they said, from the blast wave. We didn’t object or question. We didn’t admit fear or doubt. It was enough to be told throughout childhood that we lived in what they called the “Free World.” When minutes later the air raid drill was over, we marched in an orderly line like soldier ants back to our classroom. The world is still a funny kind of free. Whereas in Mexico they say “whiskey” to get people to smile for a photo, in the U.S. we say “money.”