Flat muscled and honey coloured. Sea secrets in his eyes. A silver raindrop in his ear.

To call someone 'anti-American', indeed, to be anti-American, (or for that matter anti-Indian, or anti-Timbuktuan) is not just racist, it's a failure of the imagination. An inability to see the world in terms other than those that the establishment has set out for you: If you're not a Bushie you're a Taliban. If you don't love us, you hate us. If you're not Good you're Evil. If you're not with us, you're with the terrorists.

Ridges of muscle on his stomach rose under his skin like divisions on a slab of chocolate. He held her close by the light of an oil lamp, and he shone as though he had been polished with a high-wax body polish.

The first step towards reimagining a world gone terribly wrong would be to stop the annihilation of those a different imagination - an imagination that is outside of Capitalism as well as Communism. An imagination that has an altogether different understanding of what constitutes happiness and fulfillment.

To call someone 'anti-American', indeed, to be anti-American, is not just racist, it's a failure of the imagination.