Excerpt from “The Bone Clocks” by David Mitchell:
I didn’t know what to say. The car edged past a crowded Internet café, full of slack-jawed boys holding game consoles and gazing at screens where American marines shot Arab-looking guerrillas in ruined streetscapes that could easily be Baghdad or Fallujah. The game menu had no option to be a guerrilla, I guess.
Nasser fed his cigarette butt out of the window. “Iraq. Broken.”
Always an interesting perspective.