When we lose the feeling of (writing), we cling to the literature of (the homeland) – Race in Politics – ✍️ Al-Tarifi Abu Naba
We became overwhelmed with writing…and naps and evenings revealed our state, and depression became a desire that dragged us into pain and suffering. We have made ourselves forget the language… and the letter and the meaning of writing (words) which. no one else can read…and what to write about is the question with which we judge ourselves.
*Kickel*…who went without greeting the souls of the martyrs buried in the depths of the earth and who did not pray for them. …..
*Abu Jalha*…who negotiates with the army to stay, even in dialogue with death. …I wish he had managed to die so that the army could concentrate on negotiating the hope and security of the citizens…
*Sharon* who is ageless and takes revenge as her path. …
What do we write about and our conversation does not come from an analysis and a reading of a reality which distorts the fact that we are alive…
The surrender of Kikel, which we ignored, will not be the last for the militia leaders, who discovered that the hostility and murders had reached their families while they did not know it… and those who trusts tell me that the language of revenge has reached everyone. leaders to force them into war, and only the small states of the UAE and those who move the cards to continue the war were spared until the occupation of all Sudan…
The occupation of Sudan and the exhaustion of its resources were only possible with the blessing of the militias… and the militias are attentive to the wasted time, and the government which hastened to fortify the Red Sea and to make it the capital of the country, wanted those who had failed to attack it militarily to enter using Cold War tactics…
Now the revenge is complete and the inhabitants of the island are forcibly moved around the largest project in Africa and the Arab world in order to search (for treasure). In the ancient geography classes of our traditional schools, we look for treasure with joy and come back. of our trip without tangible (treasure), but also without (disappointment). And the disappointment is with those who think that underground treasure can be searched using a map that lacks features and leaves paths that will turn out to be paths to death. …so should we write about them after death…?
Despite what we write, these are nothing but (shared thoughts) which will only be read by those who believe in the contradictions of life… Now the villages of Al-Manasir are filled with people of the peninsula, and there is no one to help them, except displaced people like them. Their situation is not better, but their belief in life makes them the straw that brings the displaced out of the torrent of blood of the war… and the initiatives continue and the photos are prepared. To be completed, but without (Kaykal), Abu (Jalha) and the others who endured the bitterness of the war and lived through it after having imagined themselves victorious, and there were no victors apart from the displaced people who chanted and chanted…
My age in wrestling, Eddie
Fill my mouth with joy
Your streets are mine..
Its sound is on me..
If treatment does not take long…
Your tricks are colored red
Your towers are red, mom
After all the encouragement given by Hamid, our choices come with him, looking for the country's hospices and talking about songs…
My night… and no dabayeh fold???
How little…or how much is my name worth???
My homeland… and my stomach is not full!!!!
And when the homeland is salvation and wishes and the army is a doctrine which makes us, in the homeland, adhere to the doctrine of (survival) without legislating or writing and putting the reins in the hands of the army and say…
My silence.. nor intentional speech!!!
