Arab Jazz by Karim Miské

Arab Jazz

Karim Miské

In the murky world where Islamists, ultra-orthodox Jews and Jehovah's Witnesses are involved in marketing a super-Ecstasy drug, you always suspect that the body count might start stacking up. The big question is, why pick on poor Laura to start with?

75-Zorro-19: the whole gang. It was surreal. Moktar, wearing a three-quarter length Adidas tracksuit that was a bit too long, his kamiss and his prayer cap, followed thirty seconds later by our brothers, Alpha and Mourad, looking like your average computer geeks. Then, after five minutes, there was Ruben, with his skullcap and tzitzits. All heading into Sam's. We had to pinch ourselves. But we were both there, and we both saw the same thing. Our instinct was to hide as soon as we saw our brothers. Over the four years they've been going to Haqiqi's prayer room with Moktar they've belonged to another world, and we've lost touch. They tried loads to convert us, but it didn't work, so they dropped it.
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