Mustafa Hotel

Kabul, Afghanistan - "...But the Mustafa still has its wonderfully exotic clientele of rugged journalists, down-and-out mercenaries and war profiteers. spend five minutes in the lobby and you;ll see more tattooed muscle rippling past you than in a day at a Californian beach." - Time Magazine

it came in the mail today, a welcome read after a day of economics. i have now found a possible alternative if everything screws up and I get trapped. i can see it now... running away from home with 5000 dollars worth of "borrowed" money after i get ORD-ed from the army. months later, i find myself sitting at a rustic bullet-holed bar in Kabul sipping on shots of Uzbek vodka in a singlet and standard issue army pants with the DE in its holster beside the glass. waiting... wisps of cigarette smoke drifting in the air.

living in a world far away from the peers i grew up with and my family; a far away place where every single day is drenched in melancholy and blood. my conscience shattered into a thousand pieces, drowned in alcohol and the screams of anguish that rings in the ears. dreaming of the day when i'll have enough money in the Swiss bank account to pay them back the 5000 with interest on top of it; to leave it all behind to start a fresh.

tomorrow, the killing begins all over again.