An awful waste of domestic oil, and further, whether he had spent much time in Palestine, the world’s largest open air prison, which paradoxically lent much to the horror of the pilot’s demise.
Iron bars and fire, an horrific spectacle precipitating fear and terror as we the watchers shrivelledas the pilot’s skin crinkled at his wrinkles, hands to his eyes to shield them from bursting from their sockets, or boiling from his head.
The crowd that came to see, for news of his end had gotten out, was sickened by the fire, the dancing over the lawn sprinklers where the flammable came from. There were the joksters who laughed to ease the horror, who became carni-barkers drawing minute attention to the site. “Come quickly, see the dancing flame , watch it wilt and combine in the oil’s smoke, and disappear.”
Bomb those who are ISIS favoured? This is where it gets you, in a cage of fire.