When I read certain place names, images immediately fill my imagination. My Baghdad was the mysterious land of Scheherezade, the destination of ships and caravans following the Tigris, and, in our time, a center of intense archeological significance.
Looking back over a century of war I note that each generation of my family associates a particular place name from childhood with horror: My father has Hiroshima, I have My Lai and now my children will have Baghdad. The significance is not that they were all destroyed by war, but that they are all places where the Americans went too far.
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