العندليب و الوردة

كتب هذه القصة أوسكار وايلد، و نهايتها ( لا تقرأ إلا بعد مشاهدة القصة) صار الصبي فيلسوفاً لأنه فشل في أن يصير محباً، فالحب كما قال العندليب، أكثر حكمةً من الفلسفة

حلم

البارحة رديت البيت و أنا كلي أمل بالنوم، كنت محملة بالكتب و الكراسات الراغبة بالاستئثار بليلتي، و كان جسدي يغويني لأن آخذ نصيبي اليومي من القهوة، لكني أبيت إلا أن أنام، و لا شيء غير هذا، بما أني لا أملك القدرة على الذهاب إلى كوخ بعيد

المراد أني رأيت فيما يرى النائم بعد منازعات و مشاحنات للاستسلام للنوم أننا في حديقة شاليه ثم جاءت حمامة و حفرت جحراً تحت الشاليه لتعيش فيه. و كان أن أطفال عائلتنا يركضون بمرح حتى رأيت بينهم تتمشى حية سوداء، حاولت تنبيه الأطفال، و لكن أحدهم -و الذي في الحقيقة لم يتكلم بعد- قال لي بأنها لا تؤذي و صاروا يلعبون معها و أنا أنظرهم بخوف و هلع، و هي تحوم حولهم و لا تفتأ تتردد على بيت الحمامة و كأنها صديقتها، و مع الوقت تغير شكل الحية و صار لها وجه أشبه بالكلب أو الضبع

بعد ذلك صرنا في بيتنا نجهز حماراً بسرج للذهاب إلى الشاليه، و كان في العربة التي يجرها الحمار و أنا على ظهره: أمي و ثلاثة أو أربعة شبان، و أحياناً أصوات لناس أخر؛ لا أرى أصحابها و لكني أسمعها كلما انتبهت للطريق. ثم عندما دخلنا حولي نعبرها للوصول إلى شارع الفحيحيل، رأيناها وعرة كئيبة و أغلب مبانيها مهدمة أو جاري هدمها. و لأن الأرض وعرة نزلت عن الحمار و صرت أسحبه هو و من في العربة، كان عبئا ثقيلا و كنت أسحب ببطء و أتأذى من مرأى حولي التي صارت أطلال

وصلت أخيراً إلى المخرج الترابي من حولي و هنا تبين لهم تعبي الشديد و عرض عليّ أحد الشبان و هو مرتاح في العربة أن يساعدني، فقلت له أنني أستطيع استكمال آخر عقبة بعدها يمكن أن يسوق بنا الحمار في طريق الفحيحيل بلا عقبات حيث أنه طريق معبد، و هذا ما حصل و لكن ما أن وصلنا إلى الشارع اتضح أن الحمار لا لجام له و لا ركاب، لذا اضطررنا التوقف لشراءه ثم أكملنا السير

جدير بالذكر أن الحلم بصفة عامة كان يعرض بالمقلوب فقد بدأ بمشهد وجودنا بالشاليه، ثم مشهد حديقة الشاليه ثم انتهى بمشهد الرحلة إلى الشاليه

ساهور الأرض

في طريقنا إلى البحر، كان في حجري، و كان يسأل عن كل شيء فسألته إذا كان يريد قصة، فأومأ بالإيجاب. حلت عليّ نشوة الهذيان فأنا لم أمارس الحكي منذ مدة (و إن في كتابتي تفصيلات أكثر مما حكيت و في نفسي تفصيلات أكثر مما كتبت)

مر زمن على ناس يسألون كثيراً حتى هربت الأسباب، و ظلوا تائهين كئيبين في مجاعة الملل. كانوا في صحراء بسيطة، لم يعد مداها يستهوي النظر و لا يغوي الرحالة بالسفر. و في يوم، صعد صبي عمود الكهرباء عازماً السفر إلى السماء، هناك حيث لا يوجد مدى. و في أثناء صعوده وجد خيطاً حريرياً متدلٍّ من السماء من فضاء لم ينكشف بعد فتشبث به و تسلق حتى بان أصل الخيط. فقد كان نسلاً من سجادة رآها الصبي تزخرف السماء و تستر الأرض عن كون فسيح، فيها من رسوم الخلق عجيبها، و من ألوان الحياة بديعها و ما أن وصلها حتى انقلبت موازين جذبه و عينه أخذت مكان رجله. و صار يتفسح على هذه السجادة العظيمة و يتمنظر على ما يتكتل منها و يتشكل و يتحرك ثم يرجع يتسطح ثم رأى أن كائنات هذا النسج تتغازل، فتتقارب لاعبة و تتباعد مداعبة بلا سبب أو أدب، فحادث الصبي غزال ترقص تحت شجرة برتقال أو شيء مثل هذا و اشتكى لها حال قومه، فأشارت عليه أن يذهب إلى الأبّار (صانع الإبر) و نبهته بأن ليس له مكان واحد و إنما يصنع في كل بقعة إبرة و لهذا وجب على الصبي -حسب وصف الغزال- أن يذهب إلى أكبر مَزَل و الذي فيه تتقعر السجادة أو تتحدب

ذهب الصبي إلى الأبّار الذي عَجُبَ عليه أمره، فإن طل عليه من وجه السجادة خرج الأبّار لظهر السجادة و هذا ما كان في حالهما طوال فترة حديثهما، حتى اتفقا على أن يصنع الأبّار للصبي إبرة يخيط بها السجادة بالصحراء حيث يسكن. أدخل الصبي خيطاً في عين إبرته و نزل إلى أرضه الترابية يغرزها في غيرانها ثم يصعد، ثم ينزل، ثم يصعد، ثم ينزل، حتى إذا زادت الغرز و كثرت الخيوط بين السجادة و الصحراء صارت الكائنات تنزل عازفة لحناً من ذات الأوتار التي خيطت بها، فتجمعت الأقوام إثر عذب النغم يلتمسون جديداً و تدافعوا ينظرون ما الخبر، و لكن القادمون من سجادة السماء لم يشرحوا شيئاً و إنما بدأوا يعلمون الناس ألعاباً و رقصات و ما زالوا على ذلك حتى انشغل بعضهم ببعض و قضى كلٌ قضيته و هبّت مع ذلك ريح قوية صيرت صوت الأوتار نشازاً يكاد يصم الآذان، و لذلك رأى الصبي أن يفل قِران الأرض بالسماء و يتركهما للتوازي، فذهبت الكائنات الجميلة عن تلك التي مسحها الغبار راجعة مع الريح إلى مرباها، و انقشع بعد حين خمار الأرض الزخرفي لتلون وجهها بنور الشمس، و منذ ذلك الحين تعلّمت الأقوام كيف يلعبون، و كيف يرقصون

قصة طاولة الأكل

أتاني راكضا، قصي لي قصة العصافير اللي قلتيها اليوم؛ يقصد هني ذاك اليوم
ماني قاصتها، قول لي عن شيء جديد أقص لك عنه
قولي عيل قصة القبقب و الأسد اللي قلتيها اليوم
هذي قصة قلتها بعد قصة العصافير و ما كنت متوقعة راح يذكرها، حتى أنا نسيتها، و قلت له ماني قايلتها
إنزين قصة الزهيوي و الخبز
!!
هالقصة كانت قبل سنة

خلاص خلاص، أنا بقولك قصة، و صمت تخريفي بحت تلاه

قصة طاولة الأكل،

كان يا ما كان في قديم الزمان كان في أطفال ضايعين، لقوا لهم مكان يعيشون فيه تحت طاولة الأكل. و في وقت العشاء شرع الناس يأكلون على الطاولة، حتى إذا زادت قرقعة الصحون و الكؤوس و الملاعق، ارتجت الأرض تحت الطاولة و انفرجت فتقلب الأطفال على سلالم تقود إلى الأسفل. نزل الأطفال فقادتهم السلالم إلى مصنع كبير تنفث منه رائحة زكية و إذا بأقزام كثر كل واحد منهم يصنع قطعة بسكويت، و كل قطعة عليها إسم، سأل الأطفال أحد الطباخين عن الأسامي المنقوشة على قطع البسكويت الشهية، فقال أنها لأطفال العالم، و أن لكل طفل قطعة باسمه. فطالب الأطفال بقطع بسكويت لهم بما أنهم من أطفال العالم

أين تسكنون؟ سأل القزم
تحت الطاولة، أجاب أحدهم
تحت الطاولة، لا أحد يسكن تحت طاولة!! كيف لي أن أعتبرك طفلا؟
و لكن من حقنا أن نحصل على البسكويت، فنحن ما زلنا أطفالا
إذهبوا إلى كبير الطباخين فلربما ساعدكم و حقق رجاءكم البعيد

فذهب الأطفال إلى كبيرهم و أعلموه بخبرهم، فقال

ما أسماؤكم؟

أنا زفرون

و أنا أخته زفيرة

و أنا ابن عمهم گنوش

سكت القزم لبرهة، ثم استطرد

إذا أردتم قطع البسكويت، فيجب عليكم أولا حمل أعلام بأسمائكم إلى الجبل الأكبر هناك، و غرس أعلامكم في قمته

ذهب الثلاثة إلى ذلك الجبل العظيم، و مروا بجميع درجات الصعود، إلى أن وصلوا إلى القمة. كانت قمة الجبل أرض واسعة مليئة بالأعلام المغروسة تبدو و كأنها العشب من كثرتها، و تتوسط الأرض شجرة ضخمة

فرح الأطفال لوصولهم السالم، و لما شرع أحدهم بغرس علمه زمجرت صرخة رجت الأرض و هزت الشجرة، فزع الأطفال و ظنوا أن الأرض تألمت، حتى بانت من وراء جذع الشجرة العظيمة عجوز سخيمة اقتربت منهم و هي تعرج من قِدَم قدميها، و حملقت في وجوههم الصغيرة و كأنها تتفقد غنائمها: من سمح لكم أن تغرسوا في أرضي أعلامكم من غير استئذاني؟ لا أحد من الأطفال يجرؤ على هذا الفعل المشين

نحن آسفون يا سيدتي، لم نكن نعلم أن القمة لها مالك
لن يغرس أحد شيئا إلا بعد أن أسأله سؤالا، و الآن تعال يا زفرون و اتبعني إلى الشجرة
لحق زفرون بها، و بقي الباقيان في ترقب قلق

ما اسم أختك؟
زفيرة
لا، لديها إسم آخر
زفيرة، أنا متأكد من ذلك
لا، لديها إسم آخر
كيف يكون ذلك، إنها أختي
و كررت العجوز جملتها
أحقا لديها إسم آخر؟ أحقا ذلك، لم يخبرني أحد بالأمر
فارتسمت على وجه العجوز ابتسامة ما زادتها إلا قبحا و قالت: لقد أخطأت الجواب يا زفرون، و الآن هات علمك و اصعد فوق الشجرة.

صعد زفرون الشجرة حزينا و فوجئ بأعداد من الأطفال مختبئين فيها و ينظرون إليه بعيون تائهة. ثم نادت العجوز أخته زفيرة و قالت لها:

ما اسم ابن عمك؟
اسمه گنوش
لا، لديه اسم آخر
قلت لك اسمه گنوش، هو ابن عمي و أنا أعرفه
فرددت العجوز، لا، لديه اسم آخر
إنك عجوز كاذبة، و إنه گنوش ابن عمي و ليس له اسم آخر
فعبست العجوز و رفعت ما بقي من حاجبيها بكبرياء، و قالت للطفلة: لقد أصبتِ و عليكِ الأمان، فاغرسي علمك و اغربي عن هذه القمة من ذاك الاتجاه لكي لا يراك ابن عمك

فعلت الطفلة ما أُمِرَت و ناداها أخوها من على الشجرة، و ناداها، و لكن العجوز كانت قد أسكنت الرياح فلا صوت يُسمع و لا صدى. ثم جاء دور گنوش في السؤال

ما اسمك؟
گنوش، أجابها بثقة
لا، لديك اسم آخر
اسمي گنوش، لم أعلم اسم غيره، أجاب بقلق
لا، لديك اسم آخر
أحقا لدي اسم آخر؟؟ لم يخبرني أحد بذلك، لم أعلم يوما بذلك
صدقها المسكين فضحكت و انتزعت علمه من كفه الصغيرة و قالت: لقد أخطأت الجواب، فاصعد إلى الشجرة مع زفرون و باقي الأطفال

فانهمرت من عينيه الدموع و تدفقت كالسيول و إنها زادت فأغرقت المكان و جرفت الأطفال من على الشجرة إلى قاع الوديان و تحولت العجوز بعد أن توهجت كالشمس إلى طائر حالك السواد تتعثر في طيرانها من طول منقارها و انحل سحر الرياح و انفرجت بعد سكونها فتعالت أصوات البكاء التعيسة في كل شقوق الماء و الأجواء. و ما زالت الأنهار تعج بالصغار حتى............

و هنا قام ابن أختي من مجلسه و خرج من الغرفة بسكون و كأني بلغت النهاية في ميقات عقله، أو كأنه اكتفى من هول الخبر. و ظللت أقصها على الناس إلى حيث قام هو، إلى أن أكملتها ذات يوم مع بنات أختي

..........حتى سمعتهم زفيرة فكسرت غصنا من شجرة قريبة و قربتها من زفرون و گنوش حتى استطاعا الخروج من النهر المالح، و بينما كانا يستريحان بعد هلع الغرق رأوا العجوز طائرا أسود تلقط الأطفال بمنقارها و تخبئهم في غار بالجبل الأكبر. تسلل الثلاثة إلى فتحة الغار فاقترب منهم أيل و قص عليهم بشجن

جاءت هذه العجوز تبكي يوما زادت فيه خطوط وجهها و زادت فأصبحت عجوزا في ثلاثينها، فحن إليها الجبل و نادى لها الريح الساحرة لتتنبأ بما أصابها. فأخبرتها الريح أن زوجها لم يكن يحبها، و لكنه كان يحب رؤيتها فزاد عمر وجهها من طول النظر إليه حتى خلق و اهترأ. و إن برود القلب و إطالة النظر تركيبة سحرية خطيرة، لا يمكن فكها إلا إذا شربت دموع كل الأطفال التائهين

ثم قلت لهن، أكمل لكم باكر، لكني لم أكملها لهن، و هذي الزيادة التالية كتبتها و أنا أقصها عليكم

و هنا رقت قلوب الثلاثة على العجوز التي كانت أصل الشر قبل دقائق قليلة، و دخلوا غارها و جلسوا إلى جانب الأطفال و صاروا يبكون عليها، و من غير معرفة السبب، صارت تنتقل عدوى البكاء من طفل لآخر و عندما رأت العجوز ذلك انشرح صدرها، و جلبت إناءا مقعرا و ملأته من دموعهم. ثم اتخذت لها زاوية و جلست تشرب، فإذا بنور أبيض كضوء القمر يلفها و يغزل جسدها و وجنتاها بخيوطه الرقيقة فبانت بعد وهلة امرأة بديعة الجمال كأن الطبيعة اجتمعت بها و كأن أرواح الدنى تجتمع لتقرر تعابير محياها النضر. و ما زال الأطفال ينظرونها بانبهار حتى اقتربت منهم و على وجنة كل طفل و طفلة طبعت قبلة، و قالت تخاطب الجبل

إنك يا جبل و هؤلاء الأطفال أحن عليّ من زوجي الذي أهلك جسدي من عجز البصيرة و طول البصر، إن الدموع أبلغ من العيون في استحضار الروح و استشفاف الفِكَر، ليت الرجال يظلون أطفالا فلا يظن أحدهم يوما أنه كَبُر فليت شعري إن في الكِبَرِ خلطٌ مع الكِبْرِ

ثم جاءت بسلة بسكويت و كتبت على كل قطعة إسم من أسماء الأطفال، و قالت لهم

لن تعودوا ضائعين بعد الآن فهذا البسكويت سيدلكم كالبوصلة إلى وطنكم
و لكن ماذا إذا أكلناه؟ أفلا ندل ديارنا؟
أجسادكم دياركم يا أطفالي، فلا تعشقوا التراب، فما التراب دليل الوطن، إنما القلب و مكان تستطيع فيه أن تأكل

العندليب الذي سكت

يقول زور بن الزرزور اللي ذبح بقة، و ترس سبعة جدور

كان يا ما كان في قديم الزمان، غابة خلت من الأصوات، فلا تسمع صباح العصافير و لا عصاري القردة أو سهر الذئاب و الضفادع. و أصبحت الحيوانات تعرف بعضها من دبيبها أو زحفها أو قفزها. كان أهل الغابة في غاية الحزن على ما أصابهم فلم يدر أحد كيف اختفت أصواتهم، و لكن ظل عندليب الغابة يغرد بصوته العذب. في أول أيام ذلك المصاب، كان العندليب ُيسِرّ سعادة في نفسه لأنه عندما يبدأ بالغناء تنصت له كل الحيوانات في طرب يصاحبه شجن على حالها. و كانت أصوات حركة الحيوانات تضيف إيقاعا حلوا للسامعين. كانت ألحانه فرِحة لفرحه بالصمت المخيم على الغابة، فصار ينشد كل ما في قلبه من المشاعر و القصائد و الحكايا

و مع حلول الخريف، بدأت ألحانه بالذبول و التساقط مع أوراق الشجر، فكان صوته لا يزيد أهل الغابة إلا هما و حزنا، غير أنه استمر بالغناء بكبرياء الطامع بالثناء حتى انفرد به مديح النفس للنفس. و جاء يوم أصفر آخر، وقف فيه العندليب نافشا صدره و تغطي عينيه مسحة زجاجية تجمع صلفا و وهنا ثم فتح منقاره بكسل، و استجمع نفسه و هَمّ بالغناء. الصمت ما زال مخيما على الغابة، اعتادت الحيوانات سماع صوته في هذه اللحظة، لم يسمع أحد شيئا، و لا حتى صدى، أين العندليب؟ أين العندليب؟

"أين أذهب؟ أين أذهب؟ يالمصيبتي يالعاري، ولّى صوتي ولّى وقاري. إلى أين أطير؟ أي ريح أطيع؟ و إلى أي الأجواء المسير" و شرع يناجي نفسه الهائمة بالفضاء عله يجد في فكره الدليل ففي مثل هذا الحدث على الطيور تنقلب الموازين حتى أنها قد تعمى العين و تُبصر الفِكَر

"لقد كنتُ المستحيل، كنت ما لا يكون، فكيف استحال بي الحال و صار جناحاي أبلغ من لساني، أجناحاي حقا أبلغ من لساني؟ أواه أجل أجل كل ما بي الآن أبلغ من لساني. أمات لساني من غرور أصابه؟ أم عجزت الرياح عن إرسال النغم؟؟ ما من فضاء يضم عندليبا لا يعندل، ما من شجرة تمد أغصانها لعندليب لا يعندل " و هو في هذا و ذاك من التساؤلات في حسرة، إلى الملابسات في المعنى حتى صدم شجرة كبيرة جليلة

"أما تنفك الطيور عن الطيران على غير هدىً، معشر الطيور عميان محلقون" تذمرت الشجرة طاردة الكلمات الأخيرة في همهمة تقرب إلى التنهيدة. ثم أنها هزت جذعها بخُيَلاء و كأنها تومئ إلى العندليب أن يبتعد، و تجاعيد وجهها تشكلت كعجوز كويتية تقول "سْليحَط" فقام الطير من العشب متألما معتذرا بإيماءة برأسه لأخت النملة المتوفاة تحته إثر الحادث و متطلعا بخجل إلى حيث تتجمع ثنيات الجذع و تتعقد لتشكل وجه الشجرة المسنة. نظرت إليه الشجرة في انتظار اعتذاره، فما جاء منه إلا النظر الطويل و الصامت إلى محياها، و ما زال هذا حالهما حتى صار رفّ جفونه أكثر إزعاجا من صمته العجيب، و لوهلة تغير تعبير الشجرة و كأنها أدركت ما حلّ بالعصفور فقالت

"هي الريح تهب علينا تسلب ما نحب على غفلة منا، هي الريح تجرف أوراقي و تسرق الأحوال، لتقدمها قربانا إلى الفضاء" تعجب العصفور من مقالها الذي كان يخرج منها كمناد من قاع بئر، فاستطردت تقول "إن أردت صوتك فهو أسير الفضاء، لقد حدث مثل هذا الأمر منذ زمن بعيد حين ثارت الريح على الأصوات ترسلها كل يوم، فقد حل على الغابة زمن تعطل فيه الجديد و استمر فيه البالي من الأحاديث تتكرر في نفس النبرة و الحين، كل يوم"، فزع الطير من كلامها و قال في نفسه ....لهذا تأخرت سرقة صوتي، لأني كنت لا أُتبع لحنا بمثله، حتى إذا أصابني الغرور و العُجب صرت أكرر على نفسي أناشيدي كالمذكر بأمجاد ذاته، و غاليت في ذلك حتى نفر مني صوتي

ارتسمت على وجهه علامة استفهام كمن يريد أن يعلم ماذا يصنع، و علمت الشجرة بمراده و قالت: "طر بذاك الاتجاه بعيدا بعيدا إلى أن تصل إلى صحراء صفراء واسعة الصفحة، تائهة الأطراف. حتى إذا استوى الأفق خطًا من كل اتجاه تكون وصلتَ مدينة الرياح" فطار العندليب مقبلا على أمله الوحيد

و رفرف العندليب حاملا هم صوته المسروق، يشق الريح كمن يريد الثأر منها، لقد كانت الريح السارقة هي التي تحمله على ذراعيها إلى مدينتها، لعوب كانت الريح تداعبه و تصفعه، تدفعه و تثنيه تحاول التغلغل إلى قلبه لتكشف مصنع عزيمته و هو يراوغها بكبرياء العدو الذي لا يستطيع الاستغناء عن عدوه

وصل الطير مداه بعد يومان و ليلة، و استراح ينتظر الفجر في غُبشة ليلة غابت فيها النجوم، و ما درى أمن غشاوة السحاب غابت النجوم أم من غشاوة العيون المتعبة. و راقب خيوط الفجر تغزل ألوان السماء و نهض بعد الصمت الجليل دويٌ اهتزت معه الأجواء، و أحس العندليب بالفضاء يزدحم بلا أحد فترفعه الرياح و تحطه كأن الأرض انصاعت للسماء فما لها حُكم و لا ثبات

أغمض العندليب عينيه و أسلم نفسه للرياح ترقص به بأهازيج جميلة، فأصواتها مألوفه لكن أنغامها تعانقت بانسجام ساحر عظيم، آمن العندليب بطيب نوايا الرياح، و فهم مرادها و أسباب ثورتها. أدرك أن الأصوات سرقت لما لها من قيمة أفقدها إياها أصحابها، سرقتها الريح ليعلو القدْر بالفقْد. و بفهمه لمنطق الرياح، قرر أن يحمل عبء تبليغ أهل الغابة و لكن بدون خطبة صريحة ولا تغريدة فصيحة، و إنما بخطة وكيحة. و هوى على الأرض يجمع أوراقها و عيدانها، و حاك منها كيسا و طاف على الرياح يجمع أصوات أهل مدينته حتى إذا ملأ كيسه و احتدمت الأصوات فيه، آب إلى دياره مسرورا مسِرّا أمرا عظيما

و مع بزوغ الفجر بزغت المدينة عند مرمى الأفق، و عندما بدأت قمم أشجارها تداعب ريشه فتح الكيس و ألقى بالأصوات بعشوائية، فأعطى الغزال النقيق و القردة البطبطة، و الهزار نعيقا و الحصان نهيقا، و تبلبلت الألسن و تبدلت و صارت الحيوانات تبحث عن بعضها بعيون تائهة لا تدري أتفرح لعودة الأصوات أم تجزع لاختلاف صوتها عما كان في سابق عهدها. اختبأ العندليب في ثغر رفيقته الشجرة و صار يراقب الحيوانات من بعيد، كانت تستحي الكلام و الغناء في البداية، لكنها بعد عدة أيام، و للبعض بعد عدة شهور صارت تحاول الانسجام، فصار الغزال بنقيقه يحن لضفدعة بسليلها لاختلاط صفاتهما، و بدأ نوع من الإبداع في الغناء و الحداء لتجربة الأصوات التي لم يألف أحدهم أن يصدرها

و بعد أن اطمأن العندليب على ارتعاشات الحياة بين أهالي غابته، لم يعد يشعر أنه ينتمي إليها، و هو الذي ظل على صوته وخرج عن قانون عهدهم الجديد الذي صنعه، إلى تجربة أدهى و أشق، فتغيير أصوات الحيوانات ألزمها تجديد أساليب التعامل و الحوار و لكن بقاء العندليب على صوته يلزمه تجديد روحه، فقرر الترحال مع الريح علّه يستمد منها ما يجعل وقع النبضة بعد النبضة أروع

و بين الحين و الآخر يراود العندليب شك الخطأ و الصواب فيما أحدث في تلك الغابة، لكنه كالقدر، لا يندم على شيء

cut and paste story

In the year 2003 I've been given a file of paper

- After our last discussion, I really want you to read this file. My cousin collected the most important of poetry and gave it to me as a present. Now, whenever I read a nice poem, I slide it in.
- Thank you very much, I will read them.

It was very sweet to give it to me without me asking for it. However, I was very busy. It was my first years in college and I have already many fascinations to take over. I read none. The file with flowery pattern was kept near my bed for a long amount of time.

19 February 2007 I wrote in my diary:

"Once upon a time -today- in a BIG BAD DAY I had my pierce flown away on the street because I -like a fool- forgot it on top of my car and drove back home. In my bag I had my notes and a beautiful little dress for my niece, a necklace and a bracelet for my two cousins. I didn't know about it until I got to my grandmother house and brought my niece with me to the car to show her the dress. when I found no bag I let her in the car and went to the place I drove by to search for it. I switched the signal on and parked when I saw my bag and everything I had in it scattered along that street. I completely lost my conscious for I came back from Boston this morning, lagged, tired and sad picking up my memory from that dark street. Two young men stopped by finding that stupid woman passing the street back and forth with very lost expressions. I left them searching for my things while I drive my niece home, she was crying, telling me every now and then "don't be sad". when I got back each one rang the many coins I had in my wallet on my palms. they couldn't find anything else. only one of them, who gave me a piece of paper which was torn from somewhere in the middle of a notebook page. It wasn't mine, but I took it out of curiosity."

I rewrote it nicely in my diary. and after some little time I told the story to my friend concluding that:

-how come a person writes such beautiful poem and let it fly away!
-He's probably some Philippino who doesn't know, whether to stay in Kuwait or go get that offer in Iraq.

2 September 2008
In a café rediscovering my notes with a new friend,

-Frost! it's a great poem! and I took the one less traveled by..
-Who's Frost?
-Robert Frost, the writer of that poem! Don't you know him??
-No, I found this paper in the street as I was picking my flown away bag.
-Where was that?
- At Cairo Street near Hawalli.
-It's probably a cheating note for some English literature exam, since it is near Hawalli where there are lots of private schools, someone could have dropped it away from the car on the way home...... [looking through the poem again in appreciation] and I took the one less traveled by..

And I eventually knew the writer, Robert Lee Frost (1874-1963), Mountain Interval 1920 [The Road Not Taken]

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;	5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,	10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.	15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.	20

December 2008, I decided to return back all the things I borrowed, I took the file of poems with me and called who might know the person, and took the number. I called, got the address, but on my way, I stopped aside in my car to write down the names of the poems and their writers to check them out whenever I get the time.

The first poem in the file: The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost.



.........parallel synchronized randomness

The Torture

I was in an Incommunicado detention for two weeks. Then I was taken to a room with a window overlooking another room. In the middle of this room there was a chair on which I sat. There was a young man in the other room. He sat right in front of me, and I have never seen him before. I noticed a camera focused on me.

"You only have to watch that stranger", the police officer said, and I mimed as yes.

I was not sure whether it is a questioning, or a torment session. I could realize no difference at that stage. It was a pleasure to see a person after two weeks of solitude, but he seemed without expression. He didn't look like an officer, he was just another prisoner. I smiled to him, and then an electric shock runs over my body. I was confused and contracted my brows as a reaction, but it was followed by another one. He didn't do anything, not a single muscle in his face was moving. Thus In an imitation I froze my face just like him, and everything was back to silence. After three hours I cried. And the electric shock started again. I realized that it is a torment machine to hold me from any facial expression. I stopped and looked straight into the stranger's eyes. I studied every line in his face, every curve.

Three days later, I was back to a normal cell. Forgetting how do I look, having his face in front of mine, both without an expression, made me in half-belief that he is me. My mind was full of stories about him just to distract me from the dreadful freeze of our muscles. It was hard and fearful to adapt my relaxed face that set me in a self paranoia. The police man entered, sealed my eyes and took me in a car. I felt that we are going to another prison or so. The car stopped and we were out in the fresh air, and what a wonderful relief that was. I was almost losing my conscious.

He released my eyes from the seal, the image of the man in the last torment was still haunting me. The new room was wide and dark, and there was also a chair in the middle. I sat on that chair, and doze. The strange man came to me in the dream, he smiled but nothing was happening to him, as if he doesn't feel the electric shocks. He left the room, but I didn't want him to go, I cried: "don't go, don't go!".

I heard a child's giggle. It annoyed me. It felt like a mocking relief. I woke up terrified from a great noise, and rose my head with my eyes half open. I saw a great amount of faces watching me. I leaned to the chair and cried. In my half conscious I heard a child was crying with me. Then I lost my conscious, and my mind.

1st floor

I visit her every month, yet I was never been expected. I wait for an hour or two, either smelling the masculine scent of her room, or try to fix her laptop. her apartment remained of a teen-aged girl from that time. She had never stayed home enough to get bored from the wall paper, neither hanged a poster or a photograph on that wall, and she hates women.

"what are you doing here?" she asked while approaching to the laptop, not me.
"It's been a month"
"already?"
"it is exactly so"

I stopped wondering why I come for a long time. We know each other already very well that a conversation would not succeed. It collapses, just like her fragile strength. She grabbed my hand and guided me to the two wooden chairs near the window. The window view was not of an interest for me, but to her is a phenomenon. I loosen her hand as it was still holding tight unconsciously, and played my fingers over the veins of her wrist and palm. We listened to each other's breath and the panoramic noise of the city, yet each of us had a different view. When the sun rays were blocked from her face I looked away to the window. "It's going to rain" I said, and her lips interrupted my cheek from any expression. I stood up to leave and she stood with me, but she remained where she was as I was reaching the door.

I usually go downstairs very fast, but today apparently I revived all my senses. Thus when I arrived on the landing, I had a pause. I sat on a step, I couldn't move as if something was holding me. "Things" like a ball on your way or door handles are better in holding a person back than people. I haven't been caught before by any of those things, except of that landing in the mid of the staircase. A sound fractured my loose thoughts. She was crying. I listened to her, and my eyes were tearing when I heard the sound of heels coming closer to the door. I ran down quickly, her heels were pounding on my heart as I was rushing out to the street. I reached the nearest alley and hid in it until she had gone.

I opened my umbrella and walked to my district.

The Suicidal Oud

"I'm sure I heard its sound!" she said fiercely as she was examining her broken Oud. I was wondering how she heard its sound among all the children's fuss tonight, but I was silent. I know she loves that Oud very dearly although she never knew how to use it. She instead took many photos with it, very symbolic indeed, the Oud in our feminine room.

It is pretty old, and was given away to her two years ago by my uncle who seemingly lost the interest.

After an ironic silence she exclaimed in rather a threatning manner: "It is certainly Khaled! but I will ask each and every little thing came in this room this night."

"But don't ask them altogether", I said.

"I will, but not after asking each one of them individually. In this way no one will have a chance to cheat on me, they can't fool me" She replied with glowing eyes from the action of detecting. She left the room afterward to show my parents the horrible accident. And I was still thinking how Khaled -the youngest of all- could have the strength to do such harm to the Oud? The Oud's neck was sheared and all the strings were pulled so violently from their normal tension. Besides, how come a child puts back the broken Oud right in its place after shattering it to pieces?
There was a song in an old Kuwaiti operate about a man got his broken Oud fixed and confronting his teasing wife by praising it. I thought maybe the Oud is destined with despair and unfortunate events.

6 pm, biting her nails and her eyes wide open staring at the thinking position. She was revising the order of her questions.

I was late to the court of justice so I couldn't witness all the trial, I reached the "altogether" part. What I realized is that the defendants felt really sorry for the judge, they were trying to make it easy for her. They all denied it and she gave the broken Oud to them as a memorial of bad deeds.

I heard rumers after that about 6 years old Zaina, she is more likely to lie with the ease of a professional criminal. Zaina told me once that she doesn't like to listen to songs "I only like to compose songs" she explained with pride.

Everything is calmed down.

Two days later, we came back to our room at night. I didn't open the light depending on the hall lamp. I got a gentle strike on the head!
"Hey! what was that?!" I thought it was a hang fell from a shelf. I touched it and it was no hang, but something was hanged. She came in opening the lights.

The Oud's neck was hanged by its strings from the chandelier. It was dangling like a swing after the hit. It was fastened very carefully to the chandelier. There was even a small wooden piece to prevent it from falling if the knots ever loosen up. She tried to open it, but I stopped her. I told her that I like it, and I want to take a photograph of it. While I was taking the photos, she was asking my brother and parents about who hanged it, but no one did.

We allowed it to swing over our heads whenever we open the cupboard to get a dress.

My elder sister called, they traveled away for a vacation. She said her husband was opening the curtains in the morning, and suddenly their 3 years old son screamed: "THEY OPENED ALONE! THEY OPENED ALONE!"
"What are they my dear??"
"MY EYES!"

9 am, again I opened my eyes as if programmed to open them everyday at this particular time without alarm sounds. Staring at the ceiling, there were two blue tacks stuck since I was a child, I remember tiny gulls flying there, one less crowded than the other. I used to wonder about them, how real they were, and how I loved to make them move, when my father lift me high. they touched like ceramics, and they sounded so as I wave my hand in the middle of the gulls troop. I solved its mystery when my mother cut my hair after the chewing gum had fallen from my mouth while I was sleeping, but I still wondered how they found a blue chewing gum.
"maybe it's blueberry flavor" I used to say.

The chandeliers were gone as soon as we started to sleep in this room. I didn't notice that, I only remember myself watching them in the living room of our chalet. I remember this image because I was crying and fascinated with the light coming through my tears from a yellowish lamp right behind the cyramic gulls. As I tighten the muscles of my eyes, the birds looked bigger, and even more real, though blury. Then from my place on the ground I close one eye and try to pick the birds by my two little fingers.

I knew later that our room used to be the play room for my elder siblings until I grew older and my sister was born. They moved the books to my grandfather's room, the dolls to the books room and me and her to the dolls room and finally the birds to the chalet because we could reach them easily by standing on the beds.

"Isn't it wonderful to make a birds chandelier to revive those blue spots in the ceiling", said to myself as I recalled the great fall of those gulls, they were my obsession and I wonder if I was the one who destroyed them at the end.

She woke up and sat on her bed next to me, watching me with empty eyes. "I think it is time to remove that hanged Oud" she said in a lazy voice "it's annoying, I'm not used to it, it always hits me in the head".

Two days later, it is still hanged.

الطائر الحائر

طائر أبصرته في غرفتي حائرا في سقفها يبغي الفرار

ضاربا حيطانها في لهفة وانبهار من جدار لجدار

تارة ينهار في الأرض و قد زاده اليأس ذهولا و انكسار

ثم حينا يعتلي مستطلعا عله ينفذ من هذا الإسار

فتقدمت إليه مسرعا بالذي ينجيه من هذا العثار

فاتحا نافذتيها رافعا للهواء الطلق و النور الستار

غير أن الطائر الحائر لم يدرك الفتحة من فرط انبهار

عبثا حاولت أدنيه لها كلما كاد يحاذيها استدار

أولا يبصرها؟ لكنه قد غدا في سجن وهم و انذعار

صاعدا أو هابطا حتى إذا مر بي الوقت و طال الانتظار

رحت أدنو حذرا فاصطدته ثم ألقيت به منها فطار

أوليس البعض في هذي الدُّنا مثل هذا الطير تيها في المسار؟

خابطا في ظلمة من صنعه و إلى جانبه يبدو النهار

و قريب منه تحقيق المنى و هو يسعى جاهلا نحو الدمار

شعر: محمد أحمد المشاري
رسوم: ديمة الغنيم

حبابة

A Story, of a pixel

Once upon a time there was a little pixel on a brand new TV. She was very hyper and colorful, so an old lady got that TV. She thought it would be nice for her family evening, as the old lady wasn't that interested in that TV. The pixel was only allowed to show her talent once a week. In fact, the world of pixels happens to have its ultimate excitement to watch the people in front of them. But the little pixel that is much more excited than the others (maybe because she's in the center) got extremely bored, and tried to mark some plans with her neighbors. She was very clever, whenever the TV is closed she tries her all power to keep it on, although her energy is very much lower than the major one.
The family has two brothers and one sister. The sister was always pale and sad. The family were watching their regular TV episode "days of our life" (the one that never ends) and the pixel was studying their faces very well, trying to read their glances and emotions, and happens to find a great engrossment by a little kid standing just so close that cannot be defined. So the pixel all of a sudden got REALLY SCARED of the very very close face, which made it produce a very irritating glow and made the other pixels run down except her. She couldn't maintain back her regular scheme, and the little kid was still amazed. She suddenly felt s_o free to move, she didn't know anything about 3d movement so she fell down.................. into _the _kid’s_eyes!
Of course the family didn’t give the slightest attention to what just happened. “Oh grandma!” the brother said, “can't she ever have something new”, and they changed the subject, coz the glow wasn't that significant to reach them. The kid, who is a very curious little fellow, is now playing with his eyes trying to remove this colored image he suddenly started to see! He sees life with much more saturation than ever, but doesn't know why (well, he wasn’t old enough to lay it back to caffeine). The pixel was like in HEAVAN, for the kid was able to move, which rarely happens when she was in the stupid TV. The kid went outside, it was a golden afternoon. so from the pixel power and the great amount of light outside the places around it felt so cartoonish. He got an hour of wonderment, for he started to see things with very rich colors, but after this hour his eyes got so tired. He couldn't bear this amount of light in his eyes so he fell asleep on the grass............. So the pixel started to wonder about this short and VERY exciting experience she had! She felt sorry for her friends as she cannot perform perfectly without them...... but....... she CAN perform differently!!
All those thoughts in her mind until she suddenly mocked by_a_little frog, then a bird, an elephant came and stepped on her by mistake! She freaked out “what is it about?!” she asked the frog, he replied in a royal tone "it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Queen of Nonsense!"
The pixel wasn't really sure where is the queen she looked forward but only saw herself magnified. "She is from the greatest family of lenses" the frog then explained. As you know, the pixel is a fearful little thing, when she saw her face back magnified she was terrified but this time the frog calmed her down and said: “it’s alright, her majesty is very pleased to see you here” he continued in a more dramatic way than it already was, “You are the power we were always waiting for, in the last two years of this kid’s life there was a great fight between nightmares and pleasant dreams so all our dream equipments went down, and the kid sees no more dreams so it is in your hand to bring back the dreamland for him.
The pixel felt burdened, but soon her experimental habit started to flourish, at first she was borrowing stuff from what he sees during the day and reflects it at night. Again, as the kid was very curious, he, starting to see dreams again, gave reviews to his mom every day, but only the pixel was listening. So as the day reflex was boring to him, she started to change positions, of things his father in the water pocket, his mother on the roof, but even that didn't really satisfy the little pixel. She thought and thought, and AHA! Because this dreamland has a lot of characters who lost their jobs she thought of gaining back their presence.
There was already very weird ones, and there is the ordinary life in front of her in the morning so what if a pink elephant went to work or a the clumsy dinosaur cooked the food but, no no, this wouldn’t be as exciting as when the kid moves. So .... she decided to take notes of all the places that a kid cannot reach, and until she reached this level of knowledge..... she as well gained a good traveling skills, she leaves the kid in the morning to places around him, she was there in the floor lamb, jumps to the window, just in order to see the places the little kid was ignorant about, or couldn't really have the chance or the scale to see, for you know as a little kid it is always hard to look over a crowd, or outside the window, or even in the bathroom mirror. Only since the characters had officially had jobs, for it is not a stimulation of what the kid sees... but a totally different realm, and only since, the mother started to listen to his reviews.

حبابة

It is 3:00 post meridiem, and she decides to go out and walk her way to the shore. The sun is the only companion to withdraw her unsettled mind and the only force entering her heart and redirecting her blood. She is not feeling, no one is, she is only tired, her muscles pain, and her stomach aches from hunger. Her face is imagined in her head to be the yellow pale version. That matches her sight of the sand. Carelessly leaves her brown shoes, and steps in the sand with an inner feeling of pleasure when tiny pebbles annoy her bear feet.

She sits watching her shadow, while the chill makes her eyes watery. The warm sun is embracing her inner shield of her body, while the very cold breeze is shamelessly stealing kisses from her pale cheeks.

A wave brings a red rock on the wet flat side of the sand. The topography of her precise face changes dramatically. It is not the first time. It happens all the time. She feels happy for witnessing the delivery of the sea. She does not like the sea; she neither likes any of the space around. But the color of the rock is amazing to her.

She takes the rock in her dry hands, and whispers for a good meal, and buries it, following a ritual, under her feet. She is punished for her long moment away from her work. Never returned back until her master had died. She goes again to find a beautiful tree, with red .. she is confused for she sees fruit with the same shape as the beautiful red rock. She picks one and it is even harder than the former rock, “if this is a fruit” she says “then how can I eat it?” she is not sure what to do. So she gets another rock and scratches it with the red rocky fruit. She sees a white watery flesh by the friction she is making upon the rock, she tries to taste it, and it is delicious! She then pickes some more fruit and goes to her room, and had her meal.

She never knew until now that it was an apple.

حبابة

حكايات عالمية-السمكة الطائرة

dedicated to EarthQuaker

bed time: "The Story of a Monkey"

EarthQuaker asked me -very politely- to tell him another story after he had read AL-Sultan Sulaiman story that I wrote back in July (when I had a lot of free time). and I suddenly shifted -after his polite request- from writing about Kuwait City, the building codes and integration (I hope my T.As never read this) to "The Story of a Monkey" (!)

I hope this will make you sleep faster Mr.EarthQuaker ;)



Once upon a time there was a giant sad monkey who used to be in a circus, but the circus couldn’t afford his transportation so they just left him on the road. The monkey was sitting lonely down a big cliff, he was crying out loud creating a symphony of echoes and queer sounds. He was a very huge monkey that he can’t feel good without any attention to his presence. All of a sudden, he saw little colorful bubbles floating down the cliff that made the monkey puzzled! ___ But he wasn’t a second! They were little ants going down the cliff by little bubble gum balloons! He was happy to find living creatures in this rural area and they greeted him while passing by his wide eyes.

“Hello dear ants” said the monkey in a theatrical way. The ants were whispering with giggles and amusement “oh he is the famous monkey….. O I loved his shows…… remember when he lifted a bench with the audience sitting on! He is the greatest!”
The monkey felt satisfied by those pride-filling whispers and thought he should do them a little “humble” show, so he told them “little ants.. Little ants I will be condemned with shame if I didn’t climb this high cliff with my meek hands but by a spirit weighs mountains and skies!” the ants now formed a half circle and set themselves into an event mode, he afterwards stepped into some rocky steps and began to climb gracefully, he can hear the ants’ cheers very clearly from his big wide ears but as he got higher he began to hear a voice from inside the wall of the cliff it was a very heavy voice that can cause the rocky cliff to vibrate a little. The monkey was worried about this sound, but it slowly got quiet so he forgot about it. The cliff was very high so he climbed…. climbed……. climbed until it got pretty dark. Suddenly his fingers touched a soft surface, he touched it thoroughly, and it was grass! He was so happy to reach a flat land eventually. “Eh a___h humph oh’oh a___h” he did the final moves of a long climbing journey by standing up. Then slipping down!!!
For the cliff wasn’t exactly followed by a flat land. Instead the monkey fell down in his first step on the new land he reached, he couldn’t see what was ahead of him for it was so dark by then. After reaching the sandy ground, he recognized the sound he was hearing while climbing, it was …snoring!
He opened his eyes when he heard no more of snoring. He found no one around! Only him, and the big wide hole he was in. so he wanted to reach a higher horizon to see where exactly he was. But he walked very funny on the ground that he looked as if he was dancing. “Hey what’s the problem with this ground?” he mumbled. So as he wondering, he saw that the ground was not from sand neither from one single material. It was a queer configuration of ground that seemed like different colorful rugs sewed or piled together in one place. There was leather, wool, soft, bouncy, rough and smooth. The monkey was mystified, what is this place “where am I?” he shouted, soon he got many answers from his own voice “HERE I AM!”, he was scared because it felt as if someone was replying to him so he shouted in a lower sound “I don’t understand!!”, then the echo came to him “UNDER..UNDER”. There was something wrong with this echo, it wasn’t normal and the monkey was clever enough to know that. When the echo replied UNDER, he began to try searching under the rug-like ground. As soon as his face got closer to the ground (he was tall you see) he heard that the ground was breathing, and there were sewing marks everywhere, but he couldn’t find the initial knot. He then, started following the marks until he found it. He released the knot and tried to pull the thread out of the weird ground and all at once it began to look bumpy soon he realized that animals with abnormal sizes were getting out from the ground and he understood that he was walking all along this place on those animals’ backs. He then heard a beautiful voice from under his feet; he looked down to find a tiny elephant.
“You are a life saver, we shall never forget you” the elephant said “there used to be a grumpy king to rule over this area and there was a great award to any person who can make him smile, there was a young man who found our land so he diluted the water of our lake by a sleeping solution. In one day all of us were sleeping in the lake that got dry with time after we had to drink from it as usual and fell a sleep inside it one by one. He sewed us together with one thread and this created weird echoes because of our different surfaces, and also a nice dancing stage. At night he brought the king and let the lights only on him standing inside the dry lake and he began to sing and dance he looked so funny in that bizarre performance that made the king laugh from all his heart.” The elephant said in a serious voice then continued “The young man got his award and forgot all about us” and after a sigh of relief he said: “until you came and released us, thank you very much”.
“You’re welcome, but you cannot live here any longer your lake is dry and you may be deceived once again if you remained in one place” said the monkey who began to have some new thoughts.
“What shall we do then?” asked the elephant.
“I used to live with humans and they hired me to make people laugh by doing simple moves in a place called circus, I am the only giant monkey in the world and this made them laugh, I don’t know why, but the humans got money to make people laugh so that they can give us food.” He wondered a bit then continued “I traveled all around the world it was a very beautiful life”

“Lets do our own circus!”

Some years later if you ask any person about the best circus you ever attended they will definitely tell you “The Queer Animals Circus”

Design Story

Photo: Qaytubai Castle, Alexandria-Egypt, 2005

Story: Design I Class [Project:Wall of Life],2004

bed time: AL Sultan Suleiman

When my sister travels somewhere with her husband or when we have a family gather in there or our chalet her two daughters always beg me for a story before bed. So i close their light, lay aside of their little beds And start fantasying while staring at the dimmed ceiling. I don't know from where i bring all those stuff i told them about and how i brought them altogether!

Here I typed the last story I have told with some alteration, I am showing you the last one because the first ones were quite messy.

Once upon a time, there was a poor Man who lived on the shore. He didn't have a boat to go fishing, so he was living on the fish nets that he weaved for fishermen.
One day while the sea tide was falling, The Man decided to have a break and wander about the muddy islands appearing as the sea was leaving.
After a while he got tumbled by a rock, when he looked back to it he found that it was a golden sea shell, covered with mud. The Man likes to listen to sea shells, so he placed the open end of its fold on his ear and closed his eyes with a smile of pleasure.
Suddenly a little voice came out from it! “Sultan Suleiman ... Sultan Suleiman … please take me to him … please”.
The Man was amazed by the talking shell, and wondered about that Sultan it’s claiming for.
Thus he walked to the city and asked the traders over there and they showed him the way to the grand palace. He had walked with the shell hid in his shabby robe until he reached the over scaled gate. And as he was admiring that premier scene to his poor eyes, his ears had his attention by an old man’s voice constant and confident.
“Do you hand me what you have by one hundred freshly made pieces of bread baked with dates and sesame?” the voice announced.
When The Man turned his face he saw The Old Baker working. He couldn't recognize his face from the flour haze in his place, and he felt extremely anxious as the Old Baker knew about what he was hiding!
“I can only give it to the sultan”, The Man shortly answered.
“Usually people deny, I like your honesty” replied The Old Baker, with a smile appeared on his face as he was approaching The Man from the hot smoky shop:
“I want to help you, I know the secret”.
“How is that, what secret?” The Man enquired.
“The Sultan doesn't accept visits from anyone he ordered three guardians on the three receptions of his majesty. Each guard repeats one question to you and you should pass all the three questions, and no one ever got the answer from our people. And I will tell you how to pass”, The Old Baker said and took one hundred pieces of fresh bread, and handed it to the man and explained: “each time you are asked a question, answer the guard honestly then give him one piece of your bread.”
The Man trusted the Old Baker after he had noticed his value to honesty as he carried on his speech. He carried the bread with both hands and walked to the great gate.

Inside the palace, he felt as a little rat in that luxurious spacious place he entered. Admiring the details and the colourful carpets that he walked aside of it not to dare stepping on those works of art. Finally he got to the first guard.
“How many/how much do you have?” the Guardian asked in a very loud voice.
“One hundred, sir” The Man answered, with rather a weak voice.
The guardian then examined the bread with his sharp eyes and let the man through his gate!
But before getting through, The Man did as the Old Baker had told him, and gave him one piece of bread from what he had. The Guardian gave him a glance of respect and thanked him with a nod.
The next gate appeared faster than the first one, and very crowded. The people were talking to each other desperately as if they were trapped there for a long time, and they were being served with food and drinks. The Guardian of that second gate mimed for The Man to get closer. As he was walking through the crowd people started to ask him questions and let him down in different accents and different languages, with the same repeated tones:

“Why bother yourself of what you have”
“No one deserve what I have”
“Nothing worth your pride”
“Why aiming for more”
“Don’t listen to anyone but yourself”

The words were vivid in his head, kept beating like the sound of drums. He moved his body into this meat fuss with eyes wide open he decided to look at each source of sound with a clear eye contact, in this clever manner he shut down any sound of exclamation. It was strange how each person couldn't look back again to the man’s sharp brown eyes. He finally got to The Guardian.
He asked him the same question:
“How many/ how much do you have?” he announced in rather a louder voice than the first one.
“Ninety-nine, sir” the man answered meekly.
And as the first guard did, he counted the pieces then smiled! And while he was opening the gate silence slowly penetrated through the crowd. And they were all suddenly sculptured in there amazement gestures.
The Man gave the guardian a piece of what he had and continued.

The Man now entered a very beautiful room with maroon furniture, golden sculptures of men scattered randomly and music beating so deep and strong with fast shifts like an orchestra with one instrument, Oud.
A graceful woman was standing with loose drape in the colour of her wavy hair. She walked to The Man like a feather kissing the marble ground by her bare feet.
She got closer and closer to him while he was planted to the room’s carpet:
“I am the third Guardian” the confident voice came out “and you should spend your night here before you present yourself to the Sultan".

The Man was speechless as he thought that the beauty of the palace was the best scenery that may meet his salty face. He stood in his place motionless. He feared this Guardian the most for he may get seduced by her fine splendour.
She arranged him a place to sit, and laid down on another sofa.
“How many/ how much do you have?” she enquired with a deep voice.
“well, I have, …, …” the man forgot the answer and he fell down to the ground from the difficult confrontation.
The poor Man sat mute on the floor for three hours couldn't say a word holding his bread in his hands looking around the room to anything other than the graceful Guardian who was walking around the room waiting for the man’s answer.
After the three hours had passed “ninety-eight” he announced with a clear sound.
The Man got his strength and serenity after he had understood what the golden sculptures are meant to say.
The woman now started to revolve round and round, shedding a very beautiful scent that made The Man feel dizzy and fell fast a sleep.

The sun embraced his tired face, and with eyes hardly open rolling his brown iris to find no one in the room and the gate of the third Guardian was open. The man freshen himself by the bowl of water which was put for him with a towel and got prepared to meet The Sultan.

The Man entered to the Sultans Court dazzled by the brightness of the place after a long dark night. He saw in the middle of the symmetry a great throne in where a man in a fine heavy gown sitting with a sad thought in his proud face.
He stepped on the marble and walked unexpectedly on the symmetrical line closer to the throne.
When he reached the middle of the court he got the attention of The Great Sultan. The Man then made a gesture of respect and revealed his message to his majesty.
“Allow me, your Majesty”, The Man declared: “to return your longing”.

A glow started to emerge as The Man brought The Sea Shell out of his robe. The blinding glow got brighter and brighter, until a fair lass appeared from that strange phenomenon. The Sultan stood up, his eyes widen and his face expression was totally changed.
“Come here my daughter, come to me oh dear”, said The Sultan.
“I am so happy for our reunite my great father”, said the young lady.
“How beautiful you become, I wish you didn't get hurt”
“Thanks to him Pa, I was in careful hands” glanced to The Man.
“How can I thank you young man, you only have to ask” claimed The Sultan.
The Man couldn't absorb the queer happening but after the last question he fell into his deep thoughts.
“I want to marry The Third Guardian, your Majesty”, said The Man “and I want you to give The Old Baker the honour of ministry”.

Ж