The War in Syria His father didn’t sleep in his apartment. The apartment was being bombed. The absurdity of paying the rent. So a colleague told me, dark circles underneath his eyes. He was working double shifts in spite of his lack of hope, worried. My father said nothing to this. He is both a fascist and a soldier who has seen the world. But cares only about one thing: Nationalism (/himself). Confronted with this, conversation fell silent. There was nothing to talk about when it came to self-doubt.