With his usual situational awareness, he observes the rawness of the place; the cold air that clung to the diesel exhaust and the coal smoke while goats grazed in empty lots aside tall concrete apartment buildings whild jeeps full of soldiers and army trucks pressed against old rickety colorful honking buses and horse-drawn carts being pressed by old dark men in their traditional balloon pants. 

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...Looking for a bed, this is the life he has chosen--to be a reporter, a journalist--like an artist or criminal, the journalist is on the periphery of society: dangerous, alone and suspect.