Paul Lojeski: The great stone hall of history, silent and indifferent, has seen it all before: the gathering of oppression, excited and frenzied to bloody flesh and bone, thundering across the landscape like a pack of starving wolves.
Paul Lojeski: A love of violence Like a red river Floods the land.
Paul Lojeski: The Saudis dumped a mountain of urine- stained bills into the Foundation’s bloody mouth, a midnight payment for a fleet of slick black bombers…
Paul Lojeski: Once after a hurricane blew power for a week I walked the darkened aisles of a supermarket kept open by loud growling generators, overwhelmed by a fear I’d never felt before.
Paul Lojeski: August blazing across Boston. Working that factory, a furnace inside, sweating sheet metal walls. Blacks and Cubans and Puerto Ricans and two long-haired white boys banging iron, wielding flame.