Fortunately, I am depressed, so now I see things as they are, or at least I see Damascus as a little girl who is wandering and laughing and I laugh with her.
And fortunately, I do not care now about the sounds of explosions, I do not hear them. And I do not approach them. The cemetery of my family has become a place to meet relatives and to put flowers in place. Fortunately, I am now aware of the music coming from the clock telling me the time, tic tac tic tac, there is and old saying in Damascene: “Time is like a sword, if you do not cut it, it will cut you.” But fortunately, this time, that time has crossed me, and it is far away from me, and with my usual courage I stopped it here where the war did not begin, and regret did not begin. Remorse is beautiful and pain is even more beautiful. Because they are able to sculpt ourselves, so that we look more beautiful as a piece of music, and I think that the music of the “Four Seasons” of Beethoven came from here.
Last night was very violent. My heart beats faster and slower, cold and hot sweat, pain in my stomach, nausea, headaches and numbness in my left hand where my heart lies. I thought it was a stroke or a heart attack, and like every time I rushed to the hospital to help myself. The doctor told me it was an illusionary symptom. Fortunately, I live in my illusion and I go wild far my imagination.
Sorry dear reader, I talked a lot and this is not the characteristics of the depressed, but after I enjoyed silence for a long time, it is time to challenge. As every time, you be the witness and the judgment, and be fair margin: While I wrote about the habit was charmed by a rose. And a drop of rain woke up from my sleep. And began to translate the habit.
Insaf ben jebara3. March 2019 at 11:33
The words tell a lot..so deep and sad