This is a short (220-word) story I chanced upon online. Read it, see what you think, and then follow the link below to discover where it came from. The cultural context here is Kurdish (Kurmanji is a main Kurdish language; although this story, obviously, is in English):
Last year the Persians sold their women for money. Who bought? I do not know, but I know that the man who bought a woman bought also sickness. The animal tax of the Jaf will be much this year. The mare which Hama bought he did not buy with his own money. This year grazing was scarce in the warm country and everyone sold his own sheep cheap. I do not know my own mind, what can I say?
The girls of the Jaf are not pretty, pretty girls are in Sulaimania. Hama’s wife was a girl from the Jaf. Take the horses out to grazing. He was from Sulaimania and went to Bana. Bring that big horse here and give it to Muhammad. Kill that cat. I am from Erbil. Where is the son of that woman? In the house of the horsemen.
The Persians are cowardly, they were not formerly so, their work is evil, and their mind is black, so they became cowards and are still cowards. Had they been manly, they would not be wretched today. The Hamawand used to be robbers, now they are ploughmen and labourers and soldiers. The Turks would have been here now if they had been wiser. If in youth I had been lucky, I should never have been here. May he become blind! Would that I were in London now!
The full context is here.
I’ve always been interested in found art, and the use of aleatory processes in creative work (and if you don’t know what aleatory means, look it up). In this case it has rssulted, I’d say, in a strangely haunting little narrative: rather sad, rather evocative. Do you agree? [AR]