I lit my cigaret and went to my room to write but what I would write I do not know The only thing I know is that I have emptied the inside of my anger and sorrow and overcame my poor notebook and reached the door of my room and with a voice coming from my table I listened to my ears before entering the room, Between myself
She asked me :

- Why do I always see you burning nerves ... revolting ... impulsive ... fierce ... violent ... without friends .... In short ... closer to a brutal barbaric person?

I looked at her and smiled .... and ignited my usual cigaret .... and pulled a deep breath ... concealed by the pain of her question .... (so you see my eyes my eyes) ... The truth is said ... I was crying from Inside .... How I wish you would feel ....

- I will not deny or escape from any of the qualities of all those qualities that I described by .... But why ... Because I am a good man .... A good man in a time does not know mercy ... When people discover that you are a good man You have no destiny to live ... You do not deserve to breathe ... You do not deserve to love ... You do not deserve to feel ... No You deserve to have anything .... Covet in between your hands ... In the owner ... Your sweetheart .... And all your sins ... You are a good man .... Peaceful .... Wadih .... In their eyes .... You are weak and compassionate .... Idiot .... Mitt walks on two feet ....

I turned off my cigarette ...

- that the barbaric man you talk about .... does not have many faces ... but is one face only ..... That savage barbaric ... fighting to remain inside of a man who lives in dignity ... and Do not steal his right ..... Breathe and live and love .... Within that savage savage .... A person suffering .... Bleeding in silence .... And all his hope in life .... To die in peace ... 

Unfortunately this is what I feel and this is the truth

A sense of constriction prevents the air ..... and the blade shines and builds up

The road is long ... long and runs

Darkness is woven and applied and intensified

And the ideas of wrestling consciousness accept and bounce

Tales narrated ... are made outside the narration

And a theater without his tree of heroes .. Surprise them among us amid the crowd

The novel has become a reality ... and reality has exceeded every limit

He became a runaway and robbed him a thousand hands and a hand . 

                      

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