by Elizabeth Loudon
In the city of spoilage, they threw everything into the Tigris: chicken bones, cigarette wrappers, human excrement, dead cows and dogs and from time to time people, glass bottles imported from Egypt. Yet there were, Salah liked to insist, seven kinds of waste. In the city of perfection, each would have its place. There was paper, glass, vegetable matter, animal matter, metals, fabrics, and toxic matter. In the United States, he had heard, they honor such distinctions.
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