The Grass
arlier this fall I decided to take the long way back to my hotel and wandered through the Christian neighbourhood of Erbil in northern Iraq. I cut down a quiet side street lined with small houses and stopped in front of a concrete, sand-coloured building. A few branches from an orange tree hung over the garden wall and its brown metal gate was shut. Dark, empty windows stared back at me from the second-floor balcony as I thought for a second about opening the
