Home in my memory is a green, worn-out couch
And my grandmother in every poem

(...)

If you ask me where I’m from it’s not a one-word answer.
Be prepared, seated, sober, geared up.
If hearing about a world other than yours
Makes you uncomfortable
Drink the sea,
Cut off your ears,
Blow another bubble
To bubble your bubble and the pretence.
Blow up another town of bodies in the name of fear.

(...)

Please tell me:
Why is anger - even anger - a luxury to me?

-------------------------------------------

What is a fact in Arabic
is debatable in English,
contentious. Thing is, I couldn’t care less.
Say evict
& I’ll still say theft.
hyperlink them to death. A reporter
asks if I believe in violence. Irony is a constant guest.
What’s that got to do with anything?
Another asks what’s a holiday like in a tent?
Who gives a fuck about Christmas and decorations?
Do I believe in violence?
Well I don’t believe in violation. 

I wanted a book that would take my mind off the squalor of the real world and this did the job. 
It's a satire about identity politics in the publishing industry and social media. 
A fun thrillery read (good audiobook), but not as good as it's hyped up to be.