A return to war I had a growing sense of attachment to the Libyan revolution. Leaving for the first time, back in March, I had felt that I was letting down those I had met there, those who were embroiled in the struggle. I have no work lined up, but I find myself drawn back there. The end seems nowhere in sight, and a certain regularity of the conflict has caused a low in the coverage of it. But I feel I need to be back there. I need to witness these events, and document them. I need to see friends there. And so I return. Driving back through the desert. The crazy Libyan drivers. The excessive speeds. The vast expanses of nothingness. Back to Benghazi. Back to the revolution. Back to the conflict. Back to war.

A return to war

I had a growing sense of attachment to the Libyan revolution. Leaving for the first time, back in March, I had felt that I was letting down those I had met there, those who were embroiled in the struggle.

I have no work lined up, but I find myself drawn back there. The end seems nowhere in sight, and a certain regularity of the conflict has caused a low in the coverage of it.

But I feel I need to be back there. I need to witness these events, and document them. I need to see friends there.

And so I return. Driving back through the desert. The crazy Libyan drivers. The excessive speeds. The vast expanses of nothingness. Back to Benghazi. Back to the revolution. Back to the conflict. Back to war.