#Ulog 1 story: love will hurt us

I do not trust those who do not like the smell of winter .. Those who do not feel a poke in their hearts when they hear the symphony of Yani and Beethoven and the poems of Mahmoud Darwish and Ahmed Matar and Aljakh .. I do not trust those who prefer tea for coffee, I do not trust anyone who does not have a favorite writer .. Although the world lost its ability to surprise anything .. However, the presence of someone who hears the voice of Sheikh Wadih al-Yemeni or Maher al-Muqaili without trembling tears in his eyes shocked me .. I know that today in the stage of maturity enough to understand that Jerusalem gave up and it is a shame We have to be angry about Hachtag in this imaginary world ... and that everything we loved will hurt us one day ... I understand very well that one of them is dying of stupidity while the other is dying of hunger ... I lost my ability on the threshold, and on screaming ... All things became under the name of (normal, teddy bears, My phone, which allowed me to see my feelings in his scattered characters without giving me the opportunity to mute .. I promised I have even nostalgia .. Oh passion ... I am free from me .. crazy ... And you .. Even from writing ... Because freedom Never meant nothing but to be free of yourself ... I finally convinced that there were more frightening things in this world than the ghost who slept under my bed when I was a child
And I learned that my swordsmanship every night is only to be revived only because .. because writing by me is the instinct of survival.

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