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War And Planes: Russian Weekly's Ominous Cover

"If War Comes Tomorrow," read this week's edition of Moscow-based magazine The New Times, quoting the title of a famous 1938 Russian propaganda movie on a very Soviet-looking cover, as it wonders what the consequences a new "big war" would be for Russia.

The weekly magazine focuses on the dangers of what it calls "the unexpected war" on the Syrian-Turkish border, where Russia "decided to show the whole world the right way to fight terrorists but ran into his own reflection."

That "reflection" would be Turkey, a country led by an authoritarian leader who dreams of going back to the greatness of the Ottoman empire. The explosive criss-crossing of rivalries and firepower could trigger a spreading of war well beyond the confines of Syria.

Last week, U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry and Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov had announced an agreement to try to impose a ceasefire in Syria. But already it appears that fighting is actually escalating instead.

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Parenthood And The Pressure Of Always Having To Be Doing Better

As a father myself, I'm now better able to understand the pressures my own dad faced. It's helped me face my own internal demands to constantly be more productive and do better.

Photo of a father with a son on his shoulders

Father and son in the streets of Madrid, Spain

Ignacio Pereyra*

-Essay-

When I was a child — I must have been around eight or so — whenever we headed with my mom and grandma to my aunt's country house in Don Torcuato, outside of Buenos Aires, there was the joy of summer plans. Spending the day outdoors, playing soccer in the field, being in the swimming pool and eating delicious food.

But when I focus on the moment, something like a painful thorn appears in the background: from the back window of the car I see my dad standing on the sidewalk waving us goodbye. Sometimes he would stay at home. “I have to work” was the line he used.

Maybe one of my older siblings would also stay behind with him, but I'm sure there were no children left around because we were all enthusiastic about going to my aunt’s. For a long time in his life, for my old man, those summer days must have been the closest he came to being alone, in silence (which he liked so much) and in calm, considering that he was the father of seven. But I can only see this and say it out loud today.

Over the years, the scene repeated itself: the destination changed — it could be a birthday or a family reunion. The thorn was no longer invisible but began to be uncomfortable as, being older, my interpretation of the events changed. When words were absent, I started to guess what might be happening — and we know how random guessing can be.

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