There was a tree on the river bank, a coconut tree. Siddhartha leaned over her, wrapped his arm around her torso and then looked at the greenish water flowing beneath him. He looked down and was filled with the desire to lower himself into the water. The terrible emptiness in the water reflected a terrifying emptiness in his soul. Yes. He was at his end. There was nothing left but to remove himself. This was the work he longed to do, to destroy the formula he hated! May the fish devour this heart of Siddhartha, this imbecile, this corrupt and worn-out body, this dull, consuming soul! May the fish and crocodiles devour him and the demons tear him apart.
With convulsive features, he stared at the water and saw his face and spat on it. He moved his arms away from the tree trunk and turned slightly, hoping to fall on his head and dive. With his eyes closed, he leaned toward death.
Khalifa Al-Khader, winner of the Samir Kassir Award for Freedom of the Press 2017, writes some scenes of fear in the details of his experience in ISIS prisons in the city of Al-Bab, his escape from prison, and his subsequent return to it of his own free will after ISIS was expelled from the city.
Khalifa does not tell us about ISIS from the outside. He lived in the belly of the ghoul, and went out to narrate some of what he saw, heard, and lived...
Only Your Hands is a collection containing poetic texts written in Arabic and translated into English in a fresh language.
It carries intense feelings of love and longing.
It calls for optimism and approaching life in a spirit of hope.
In it, the poet sends her questions about love and life to the moon, the stars, and the sky. She addresses the distant lover with patience and patience, and dreams of a near meeting and eternal happiness in the shadow of love and optimism.
Only your hands are texts written from the heart to reach the heart and inspire a spirit of happiness and hope in the reader.
Adam rubs his old rust with the blade of a knife. He scratches the space with tremendous instinctive force. After a period of time has passed since the absence of a second person, the open space has become grayer, and different from what Adam imagined. Here he walks alone, but the old noise still haunts him. A mythical being lives under his skin, making him rub his hands and rub them. His eyelids, he wants to see the light hitting the body of the night with the blade of the knife, and the knife does not seem bold when faced with the thickness of the bohemian bellows that strikes it.
Adam declares, the wires extending from under the neck to the edge of the shoulder are swollen, his face appears congested with blood and the red color invades his place. Adam is now thinking about the crow that hovers around his head, crowing with a sound like the horn of an old freight vehicle. He had previously been told that seeing a crow in the belly of the sky is an omen. It was ominous, so his senses trembled and he turned to the notebooks of the past, and questions abounded in his head.
