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Written by Fiona Halliday
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29 Feb 2008 |
There was this face hung in the darkness. There were these two eyes, lividly white and glistening, illuminated by the reddish glow of a cigarette, so they shone with a glittering and barbaric intensity through hair matted by rain. There was this figure squatted at the mouth of a dark cave one hundred feet aloft in the darkness of the night whilst every other soul was abed tucked in with their dreams of oblivion and sweetness. The rain whispered in shimmering curtains. Beyond was a great and roiling immensity of darkness: the sea.
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Written by G J Buckell
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09 Jan 2008 |
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On three sides of the palace lie desert. To the left, there is a river, flowing towards the capital, three miles north. The six hundred foot palace stands on a site of ten square miles. Its stepped pyramid rests on a plinth that raises it above the presidential gardens. A concrete path leads to the main steps, above which is the marble entrance.
Above this arch is a simple monument to the revolution: an enlarged Party insignia with an inscription dedicating the building to those who fell. The main arch is replicated in miniature on all sides, with several entrances separated by pillars arranged in rows of six. The palace is divided into three sections, the largest in the centre, with two adjacent, smaller structures. On its roof are hanging gardens, surrounded by a stone balcony, which overshadow the desert and the glistening river.
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