Chapter Thirty-One
And this time what I say
makes no sense...
the same place again,
the same rain, the same quagmire of mud,
the same roofs, the same landscape,
the same sad standing,
the trousers hung on the wire and not drying,
the same choice,
feeling, as though attached to this space,
or rather the same thought,
and not the thought — a bitter and sharp
doubt, attached to this space:
if space returns, but time does not,
yet what does sadness that has named the draught
still search for in the interval?
-Belgi
In August 1999 the guerrillas broke through into the Batken region of Kyrgyzstan, taking hostage not only several Japanese geologists, but also a general of the Kyrgyz army. This was the beginning of the so-called “Batken war”. During one of those autumn days of hig
