I'm alone

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No one knows if they are crazy or are they more human than all the people in the village and more sensitive!

The street is empty of everyone at 3 in the morning and the pale blue dominates the visible. He was sleeping in the middle of the street, contemplating the sky and the recklessly planted stars enveloping the wide distance, blowing out his cigarette that he had borrowed from a passer-by he did not know. He said to himself, to the sky or to the universe, “Why am I crazy? My ears and he puts his hand on them and a hand that hangs me - he puts his hand on his neck - I did not fly and return to fall? Why did I roam with her in the magic of the kingdom? _ Shaking his head as if he was roaming.

The new Sheikh of Al-Jami`, a man in his late twenties who appears steadfast. He rubbed his eyes, held a rosary and repeated the dhikr. He came from afar and saw him while he was sleeping and said to him, “Oh crazy, what do you do at night?”

He said to him, “I visit the world that is in my head.”

He said, “How? Get in, sleep.”

He tells him, “Night is at the end of the heavy.”

In the morning I went out, not knowing where to go. A carriage stood for me without waving to it. I got in, looking very indifferent, and the driver noticed that and said: Where to? I looked at the window and said to him: Your last stop, the stranger has a revelation, whatever it is, the stranger from the view, the form, the language, the movements, the dominant interaction, the unified in itself, and the poetic sentences.

I am returning after ten years to my village, and in these ten years I have never gone to the village and everyone thinks I am dead. I do not know how the strength came to me not to return for ten years I spent in clinics and cells even though I was allowed to leave them a lot. I had insanity symptoms and still are trying to control I took a lot of electrical sessions and various medications. I walked in most of the streets in major cities, lost and lost.

I went back to see my friends in the Hashashin community. After the car stopped and I walked through the village until I found a luxurious car parked at the village bridge, he saw me, it seems that I know it, it is Islam, my God.

So I told him: I don’t know, where are Mazen and Magdy? How are you and their condition?

So I became silent and wandered, so I saw pain in his face, and he said to me: You mean thirst, sanctify

So I said: What restlessness and sanctification ?!

He said: Magdy is now called Tafsha, and Mazen is called Quds. They went crazy after Ahmad’s suicide

I told him: What nonsense is this?

So I became silent and wandered, so I saw pain in his face, and he said to me: You mean thirst, sanctify

So I said: What restlessness and sanctification ?!

He said: Magdy is now called Tafsha, and Mazen is called Quds. They went crazy after Ahmad’s suicide

I told him: What nonsense is this?

He said: This is what happened, shams, I am only telling you the bitter truth, I am protecting them now from people and giving them food and drink.

Magdy or Tashfa now, a strange person. It has a great impact on many people, a beautiful, sweet, pure and cynical effect. Its presence is essential in the village, and no village is devoid of a madman who knows most of the village’s residents, especially children, is a kind of poetic glow even though it is crazy. And you knew it as well even before your departure. Not all the madmen were harmful and frightening to people and also in the well-known and circulating manner. Peaceful, but not towards everyone, it was coming out of things like harassment of women, frequent hallucinations, linguistic systems that are spoken all the time, such as meeting all people on the street and telling them, “You are your mind tired People used to use it for laughter, and on this day when they hallucinated a lot, “You are your mind is tired.” One of them told him to walk in the village and say that someone whose mind is tired and he said to him, “Muhammad is his mind is tired.” So he said to him, “Our Lord heal him.” Everyone laughed. He used to laugh, not once after Ahmed’s suicide, he laughed. Some women would take him and bathe him and make him sleep with her, and he was one of the people who, despite the lack of standardization, the things he did politely. All people understand their natures and treat them according to the amount and form of their respect. He knows many stories about the village, carries all of its history, and handles its history to strangers and passers-by always. He asked me for a cigarette and did not know who I am? He asked with great respect: his fingers are full of old rings, and his clothes, a suit jacket, and trousers are always clean.

He was very troubled now, but the presence of his mother and knowing that she was present and living in the house was reassuring and protecting him from the people and the existence of Islam as well. Behind the wall, his eyes turned to wild eyes from fear, until the doctor passed by and said to him: Do not be afraid, I will not take you to the spa. He returned to his calmness shortly after and returned to his pleasant mood with joking with everyone who crosses and sometimes in complete silence and straying in something. This time they will take him to the sanatorium if he does something. He always imagines himself in his white uniform in a sanatorium as he went once in his life and escaped from it and from that time and he is very afraid to go after Electricity sessions. He gets very nervous from the sound of the ambulance or any loud sound, and therefore he never leaves the village or its surroundings

I started talking to him. I took out a cigarette while he was taking it. I said to him: You don’t know me?

: I do not remember

: I am crazy about the bigger world .. the Junkie community

He paid great attention and said: Where are his days and nights? who are you then? shams

He looked at me hard and his eyes teared up and said: You are a sun, you are a sun.

He hugged me and shouted: Sun is coming, Sun is coming! And I said to him in his ears: When did you complicate the hashish community?

He left my lap and turned away and said: Get away from him. We are no longer holding him. I called him, but he did not answer me and started screaming with great excitement, “Go back from where I came or do not ask for him again.”

In her pocket.

The second friend or the second madman that I should look for is Mazen or Quds, a person who speaks classical in the village, but it has become his permanent official language, but he is not afraid of moving between places. I have to go back to the city to look for him. He became always talking and moving his hands and there are many stories about him. And because he spoke so pure, we sometimes stood in front of each other with a play we talked poetry. All his people left him out of their shame at him and left the village. He did not even disclose anything from his previous life. . Morocco has resulted in its simple injustices and I found a person in front of me who looks at me with astonishment at his burial body as a sanctuary or sanctuary, approached me and said to me: Come away from the people here, I cannot bear them. To him: Holy tell us a poem, but he did not look at him, his features were very static. I met another fly of this damned bastard and he did not notice at first until he recognized me and told him “fly”

He said: I have now been promoted from a fly to the “fox” and I work in a large number, in the government. You did not walk with this madman, because it is of no value?

I was amazed at what he said and I was amazed that he did not do anything sanctified and did not even respond. I left him and we walked until we arrived and breathed a sigh of relief to the many questions that I must answer as I returned without money without a mind without anything, because I betrayed them and left. I don’t know what happened to them? And who stayed alive and who died? I left my sight to the extent and became distracted in the years that passed and I had not gone by, and yet I craved absence and absence again.

I remembered my house, which was in the middle of the village in front of a large neighborhood called Al-Sitat neighborhood, because my grandmother and her friends used to sit in it and share everything they cook together, eat together, raise poultry, etc. from the village business, consisting of three floors, the lower floor of my grandmother and grandfather and behind the house is a large roundabout in which my grandfather kept buffaloes And the cow. My father is the only son of my grandfather with two daughters. My grandfather was from a very fundamentalist, conservative, stubborn and arrogant family and my grandmother was from a family of great influence and they had a social reputation. I was closer to them than my father who was very strict with me in childhood and this is one of the reasons that made me leave from The village with Ahmed’s suicide, that there are sins in the social custom that will not be forgiven, including madness, his names, and sexuality if a woman practices it.

I fell asleep for moments in my previous life when imaginations completely dominated me. This is the day when I woke up amid books, paper, rotten food, and plastic bottles, and looked in the mirror, and heard an old man say, “You are crazy.” I changed my life from life in the midst of dolls and mirrors to life in the streets. This backbiting always came to me. I also went crazy like them and I used to live in the streets and they always took me to the sanatorium or prison. I had an imagination that my mother had caught a glimpse of me and I didn’t know whether she had spotted me or insulted me because she used to do that repeatedly and say It can distinguish my existence and my presence from the whole world.

A wedding erupted in me, seeing her, despite her wrinkled face and difficult walk. At that time, I had many mixed feelings, including the disappointment that I did not present to her and the joy of meeting her again. I did not see her as cute since I thought about suicide in the car. The warmth in my heart soared in her eagerness for me, and I remembered what I was doing, advising all around me, “Your father is not important in anything. He is absolutely masculine with terrible authority, but your mother never betrays her heart.”

She said with a heavy sigh and crying: Where have you been, sweetheart? I cried to you like Jacob when Joseph cried. Where were you? No matter how much, come, rest in my arms, and enter the house. Everyone will be happy about your arrival. I miss you so much, my son.

My mother had a Sufi soul, even though she was a very simple woman, but she appreciated strangers in the world. She was trying to understand them at least. She was compassionate to all those who asked for her help and those who did not ask and showed his need. As for my father, he was a male man who exercised his authority over everyone who was able to exercise it over him. Absolutely no moral deterrent even though I never classified it, but I was trying to understand everything around me, even the executioners, and this was a big part of my pain. My mind was ready for the world and facing it, but my heart did not. All the paintings faded. I walked with her and knew that maybe my prison walk was coming.

I tried in various ways to be sensually and consciously disciplined and not to do anything that provokes their anger, especially my father, whom I have not seen until now as cute at all since his death, but my mother’s absence and presence overwhelmed the next prison. I entered a little afraid of the prestige of the meeting after believing in absolute farewell with them. He frowned and did not cuddle me until I was surprised because I used to kill him every time in my dreams, smash his head completely, and run away and the dream ended.

I was always like this, reviving the imaginations and moving with them and talking to them

I looked at him with astonishment: I am here, here, only in my head

He said, “You too have been cursed by imagination, I am also excited ... We are in front of Ahmed’s grave. When you left and you spoke on the phone and you did not answer, they refused to hold a funeral because he would be immortalized in the fire.

So I said, “I moved my tongue that day and no sound came out. I stayed like this for more than five years in asylums and prisons. I used to shout at the walls around me. I could not suppress these strong vibrations in my stomach. I do not know who lives in me and who can I from me?”

He told me at the beginning of the matter that I know you will become crazy with him or crazy with him, but until now I do not know him. And my existence and my existence is not a mystic. I still do not trust to meet him or not to ask about his existence and to believe it. I am a strong disbeliever in ideas and feelings. I strongly disbelieve ready identities and their spaces. I do not rest except in my drowning in the mazes at the end of my meditation, but I did not pass by any literary means and perhaps that did not intensify the exoticism of me. I do not know when this will pass, I feel despite my insanity that I am still imprisoned in this world in which there is nothing to amaze me or anything Seduce me or anything that carries an absolute aesthetic that does not diminish or diminish.

Qudus said: The average person hates the deceitful people who cannot be formed into molds because they threaten the constant normality of vision. He hates the psychological hours that accept darkness and try to understand it even if it is even absolute and criminal. He hates them because they follow it and follow its repression and silence, and may be angry and confused by the ability to do so. The destructive people because they subconsciously feel that this possibility will become so, this possibility is unclear.

So I said: I have a sense of alienation, sanctifying and emigration from everyone. My loneliness is not because there is no one around me, but because there is no one who resembles me, but what is not similar to that is the unity in its early stages and the reverence of meanings on people, the sanctification of fictional work over realistic work until diving into the mold of the empty essence Consolation and salvation. Perhaps because I was not in the best of using that prophetic imagination and perhaps because I fearlessly went through all the paths in them, even the dark ones.

He said: There is no pleasure comparable to the pleasure of being completely absent from the world and dealing with it as a game, as if everything in it is a game, and no constant is relied upon whatever it is.

We fell silent a little and then burst into revelation

After Ahmed committed suicide, his father came and tied me to the bed, and I was not able to get rid of these chains. He handcuffed me and I did not even resist that. His way is with us, you know that my family is small and an outsider in the village. He tied me up, and I feel the restrictions that are wasting in me and stamping out my presence with this terrible pain.

I held tears in my gaze that emptied them when he went out and felt an utter nightmare not from what he did, but from what he hoped he would do something else.

I did not sleep this night and Umm Ahmad came at dawn to check on me. I entered, but I did not try to deceive her in my sleep, but rather opened my eyes, when she saw my handcuffs, I jogged my jaw without saying anything. I sat in front of me grieved by what this violent man was doing and said to her: I must leave, or I come to him

She said: To where?

I said: I do not know until now, all the places I have gone to have been a stranger and deserted, so it will not matter much

I hugged her firmly and left her bosom before she left me, and all the signs of coercion were in my heart from the world. I came out of the window and wanted a high ecstasy, and this high ecstasy was not achieved in me before except in the community of the hashish. ”

I didn’t know what to say, but he added

“The madmen are usually awake at dawn, usually they wake up to see the color deviation. This reassures them a little, but is reassuring without extremism and subservience.”

A rash came, grabbed his robes and raised his tip in his mouth and eyes, as if filled with red tears and holy ones on the ground, leaning his back against the wall, his body feverish despite his almost complete nakedness, and he looked at me intimately and sometimes with amazement. I walked for a rash and we walked to sanctity. He rose up when we approached him and said: I know a place he does not go to No one, I know a ruin.

We walked behind him and I threw completely silent, thinking, maybe why should time breastfeed them?

We reached an abandoned place called “Jabr” with many ruined places, but he chose a place from them and we entered. The place belonged to an owner of all the surrounding lands, an old aristocrat, he left everything and no one knows where he went, as he left all his property without even selling it, people plundered everything and remained The emptiness but a piano did not come in the head of the peasants with what they use and they built myths about the place so that no one goes to it anymore, and the myths are all that remains for the rest after the death of the event.

We entered this bare hall, the hall of nothingness without fear, full of spiders, its webs, and many mice. He sat up on the piano, put his hands and hit his finger and said: You want to know why we have stopped us from the community of the hashish? You remember, who said about us that we are infidels, we did not forget that if you did not forget it, we gave him an elixir and the mark of Majdi, which he had been preparing for more than ten years. He was silent and in one of the trance sessions he danced and shook his head at the end. When gnawing in the interior, the language of the first mourning, and after it is a metaphor.

The first deity’s craft was done in it, death.

Quds did not move from his place and did not seem to be surprised. He took out the heroin and put it on the shoulder of the piano and said, “Come on,” he threw a thirst from the ground and sniffed everything he had thrown and then cast and looked at me, smelled it all, put it to himself and smelled it violently.

And we threw ourselves on the ground, Muslim ourselves to her, and Quds suddenly said: Why did you go? Why did you leave us?

And he got up in front of me, and I looked at him and he said: Worship me!

He paused for a moment and said: I want you to submit, after you departed, we all felt unheated and that you had betrayed us, you betrayed the next journey of torment. We have been cast aside by Ahmad

And I left, this is the first time I say that, the first time I ever talk, we thought you had no feelings and you knew that we were full of emotions. ? I caught you and imprisoned you?

I told him: You did not want to imprison me?

: In order for you to feel an unpleasant feeling as we feel, to drown in pain as we drowned every day, if it was a prisoner of walls, I wish that the returning is possible not as mysterious as the world

Do you think that I do not feel that I am enjoying my life? The parting of you affected me so much, but I did not know that I would affect you in this way

: Didn’t you think so? Do you think we feel like these people?

: Because I am of no importance to everyone, show me his grave

: It’s on the top floor

I got up slowly, I was very dazed. I climbed the crumbling staircase with great difficulty, the tomb was surrounded by a cactus, it was not a grave that was very dusty and surrounded by some cacti and wrapped around it and the old high window was oblique and said in a loud voice:

Wake up, silent, I am your guilty and innocent killer

Aloe Vera around you keeps you up and protects you

Now your everything is leveled

Now you are forever silent.

Tashbas rose and sanctified to the grave, and they sat on the ground with their faces facing the grave, their tears fresh in their eyes, and all of us drowned in imaginations.

Tashfa began with the conversation: I will revive him, did we not accept death? I will invent a chemistry from my previous chemist and revive him, I will add some materials to some materials.

Quds said: You loved the Arabic language and did not tell me, Ahmed, you were a poet

I said: Yes, I found his notes by the tree, where are they now?

Tafsha said: They cut it before our eyes. His dirty, filthy, foolish father cut it down because we used to go there and it was called the infidels tree

I said: Is this pig still alive?

Quds said: But I will kill him

So I told him: Be calm, this is not how things are run

Quds laughed and said: We will not prove anything to him, his crime is not proven ugly, from its ramifications and the large number of those convicted in it

I said: Our problem is that we are without intimacy, isolated at the heads, we do not intend or grammatically, and this is what we miss, to be a source and to be afflicted. We have various relationships with various meanings, but we do not have a relationship with anyone

Tafsha said: This world is hated and nothing is loved in it, this world is demolished and not built, and the first thing that you hate and destroy is your identity to it, you allowed beautiful perfumes to infiltrate your soul and moved away from old despair.

So I said: And what will we do with despair? Is not it what led Ahmed to suicide and led us to madness? Do we not punish our mind that blasphemed and left because of Ahmed

Quds said nervously: And what do we do, God of human development? This is our live and this is what we chose, why did you come?

: I did not come with me, Mazen, I lost a large part of me, it was divided and scattered, you do not know what I feel and I do not know what it feels like, but it is definitely a pure pain. I feel that we are weakening with time more constantly. Our psyche is too complex to tell something!

I could not hold back my tears in these moments, so tense, I do not know as if I had raped everything from me by force from the ignorance of these people, although I feel free in madness, for the madmen are always heavenly messengers. Our silence until it came from silence and darkness in the universe that threw it into us.

The side of the grave is piled hallowed on the other side.

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