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About Basel

Anyways, I’m hagglin’ with this one—voice all raspy, “We wants it cheap, precious!” She laughs, says I look like a drowned rat. Rude! But funny, gotta admit. Surprised me she didn’t run—most folks scream seein’ me. Maybe she’s seen worse? Dunno. Thoughts in me head goin’ wild—should I trust her? Is she a trickser like them witches in the film? “Turn into a pig, ya will!” I mutter, an’ she just winks. Winks! Bold as brass, this one.

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Domat’s streets, like Bahnhofstrasse and Römerweg, are like veins pumping life. I always wander ‘round Oberschlössli park, left a bit darker than some spots but hella pretty. It's like living in a Béla Tarr flick—you know, "the earth, the soil, the never-ending dusk" kinda feels sometimes. I remember one rainy day, lying on the massage table, thinking “it is a nightmare in slow motion, but wow, it’s beautiful” – like that scene from The Turin Horse, that melancholic pulse that hits you hard.

Fifty years after Lebanon's civil war, ex-fighters warn young people against violence - Revisited