Frank Dicksee La Belle Dame Sans Merci painting

Frank Dicksee La Belle Dame Sans Merci paintingSandro Botticelli The Birth of Venus paintingEdward Hopper Nighthawks painting
what?" Mishal replied in her grey, exhausted voice. "You keep talking about ruination. Then what difference is a Mercedes going to make?"
"You don't understand," Saeed wept. "Nobody understands me."
Gibreel dreamed a drought:
The land browned under the rainless skies. The corpses of buses and ancient monuments rotting in the fields beside the crops. Mirza Saced saw, through his shattered windscreen, the onset of calamity: the wild donkeys fucking wearily and dropping dead, while still conjoined, in the middle of the road, the trees standing on roots exposed by soil erosion and looking like huge wooden claws scrabbling for water in the earth, the destitute farmers being obliged to work for the state as manual labourers, digging a reservoir by the trunk road, an empty container for the rain that wouldn't fall. Wretched roadside lives: a woman with a bundle heading for a tent of stick and rag, a girl condemned to scour, each day, this pot, this pan, in her patch of filthy dust. "Are such