Flashes of conscience:
Pictures in the form of flashes emanating from the author’s conscience, which he shares with the reader to build positive energy within him, through motivational phrases, positive thinking, and moral psychological rules that enable him to overcome obstacles on the path of his life, fill it with happiness, and do the impossible to achieve success and happiness, and shine in dealing with others.
Ever since the Parisian girl Marie-Laure lost her sight, she has been living her own world, either between the pages of the books her father brings her, or in the corridors of the National Museum of Natural History where he works, enchanted by the wonders of the museum and the imaginative stories she hears about its holdings, especially the mysterious jewel: the Sea of Flames. She spends her days with her father with her usual routine, until the war begins, forcing them to run away carrying a dangerous secret.
On the other side of the war, in an orphanage in a small German town, a German teenager spends his days with his little sister, fascinated by the magic of radio and its ability to transmit news and stories from distant lands. Werner pursues his obsession to become an expert in installing and repairing radios, until the war requires him to join the engineering forces in the German army.
Through their story, Anthony Dorr tells in his charming novel about the good that we may see despite the ugliness of war, and about what war does to dreamers.
عن ماذا يتحدث كتاب جحيم العابرين؟
كتاب جحيم العابرين يبدأ برواية قصة شاب تعطلت سيارته على هذا الطريق بسبب نقصان الوقود، وفي أثناء انتظاره تمر عليه فتاة يطلب منها أن تقله إلى أقرب طلمبة وقود وهناك تحدث لك الكثير من الأحداث المرعبة ويكتشف الشاب في النهاية أن تلك الفتاة هي جحيم العابرين والتي تقتل كل من يأتي بهذا الشارع.
It is a collection of articles including:
Your slumber and your jealousy are killing me. Your neglect and absence kill me. I am here between the magic of your fingertips before dawn opens his heart and eyes. Do you still remember my beloved, or have travels, the call of dawn, and beautiful women of chance stolen you? Am I still in you like a bird that happily pecked your palm and then flew away so that you would not see its hidden sadness? On this day, I woke up to the rose of my heart between your lips. I felt the lines of your face with a tremor of fear that I would ignite her fleeing life. I saw the pupils of your eyes only to read the distances, the textures, and the seas that you crossed with a closed heart, to land exactly where you were destined to amaze me before you stole me. I saw you at the threshold of fear telling me what was in your heart, before you withdrew: I fear that I will die and not be satisfied with the touch of silk in your soul, nor with the storms of a body that was stolen since the first resurrection, nor with the luminous language that childhood buried in her heart, and closed tightly for fear of getting lost and forgotten. I search for you without fear of me, and I do not know how a lover can be the victim of a dream that he stole while unaware of his grief
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