Travels Through Nowhere, With the Sun in My Eyes

'God is happy!’ he said. ‘Allah is pleased!’ The day was warm, clear blue sky, the breeze was necessary.
          ‘And when it rains?’ I asked.
          ‘God is displeased,’ he said. ‘God is happy today because the rebels in Libya still fight!’
          The day previous, it had been cold and gloomy. The evening’s tongue was frostbitten, and it could not speak. The same man had told me ‘God is displeased: Qaddafi the Supreme is the Jewel in the mire.’
          I waved the man away – the crazy bastard. It’s funny, I thought: for half the year, God is happy; for the other, he is displeased. It’s strange, I thought. It’s a strange, strange situation.