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Alveoli of swelling smoke: people in the region round Mosul are glad-ioli, learning to breathe again after ISIS retreats; but it’s a rasping hard coming they have of it.

Oilfields burning: skies overcast by black cotton wool; horizons hidden. Meanwhile many women are lifting the veil from over their eyes.

Coming again to the wider world. But who comes for them, if not in nihilism? No point in denial-ism: here in the West we’ve got nothing for you.

Too busy this election season, chasing swirls of brown leaves spotted with age; and at the same time throwing petrol on the bonfire of our vanities.