Syngué Sabour, Beijing Coma

Near Pathe cinema, on a side street going into Chinatown, there's a place called Eazie. Inside the walls are pictures of a city with Chinese signs. You get to chose 5 types of vegetable. I chose two types of mushrooms, onion, sprouts and tofu. Stir-fried in Thai sauce and poured onto fried rice. There’re chairs on the sidewalk, so I sit outside. I always start with chopsticks, lose patience halfway through and switch to the plastic fork.

I’m reading a book called Syngué Sabour. About an Afghan fighter (Taleban?) who's paralyzed (comatose? Never very clear on this, his eyes are open but you never know whether he sees anything) after getting shot and is taken care of by his wife. It’s mostly his wife talking to him, telling him stories, in a small rectangular room with curtains with pictures of migratory birds. The book is full of rhythm, like a poem, and time is measured by the breaths he takes.

I read Syngué Sabour in the tram and the train. I read it most times that I get the chance, except in the bathroom, where I have “the beats: from Kerouac to Kesey, an Illustrated Journey through the Beat Generation”. (with pictures).

The odd thing is that recently, I also read Beijing Coma, about a Tiananmen Square protest organizer who’s in a coma after being shot in the head. His thoughts, his memories, detailed descriptions of what’s happening to his body. His mother. The bird that visits his room.

Both about people who are paralyzed, and peoples who are paralyzed.