Caught Claire before she fell asleep this morning (her night, obviously), which was good. Breakfast with Alim, a bit of lazing around, and now I'm going to head downstairs and get to writing and editing. Hopefully this doesn't take more than four hours, but we'll see.
There was a major attack on a restaurant in Kabul last night. It's called Taverna; I've eaten there six or seven times. A suicide bomber blew himself up out front and then two accomplices sneaked in through the back door and started shooting people. Fourteen or more killed, mostly expats, unsure how many wounded. It's always sad when people are killed violently - this is no more sad than a wedding party being killed by a drone strike - but this is scarier and hits closer to home than other attacks because it's a place I'm well familiar with, that I have memories at. It's where the crazy dog lady who was feeding the strays food from the restaurant came over to our table and talked for forty-five minutes unbroken about the problems dogs face in Kabul and her work trying to get them adopted by Americans and other expats leaving Kabul for home. No one I know was at the restaurant during the attack, thank goodness.
That "thank goodness" always gives me pause. I know intellectually that the lives of my friends and colleagues are no more or less valuable than the lives of people I don't know, but obviously the death of someone I know would affect me much more deeply than a stranger's. Nothing unusual in that. But it still seems odd that it even occurs to me to say "thank goodness" in the aftermath of mass murder.
Anyway, on to work, time to close down the internet browser and buckle down. Here goes.
There was a major attack on a restaurant in Kabul last night. It's called Taverna; I've eaten there six or seven times. A suicide bomber blew himself up out front and then two accomplices sneaked in through the back door and started shooting people. Fourteen or more killed, mostly expats, unsure how many wounded. It's always sad when people are killed violently - this is no more sad than a wedding party being killed by a drone strike - but this is scarier and hits closer to home than other attacks because it's a place I'm well familiar with, that I have memories at. It's where the crazy dog lady who was feeding the strays food from the restaurant came over to our table and talked for forty-five minutes unbroken about the problems dogs face in Kabul and her work trying to get them adopted by Americans and other expats leaving Kabul for home. No one I know was at the restaurant during the attack, thank goodness.
That "thank goodness" always gives me pause. I know intellectually that the lives of my friends and colleagues are no more or less valuable than the lives of people I don't know, but obviously the death of someone I know would affect me much more deeply than a stranger's. Nothing unusual in that. But it still seems odd that it even occurs to me to say "thank goodness" in the aftermath of mass murder.
Anyway, on to work, time to close down the internet browser and buckle down. Here goes.
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