Kutipan
“Have you ever seen a golden piece of shit?” he asked. “Do you think it would be beautiful or just another piece of shit?”
He didn’t know why he had asked this. But when he looked at her, he found that she was just a tree with cracked bark, another eucalyptus tree on Abu Nuwas Street.
He didn’t know why he had asked this. But when he looked at her, he found that she was just a tree with cracked bark, another eucalyptus tree on Abu Nuwas Street.
She was the only person who could give him hope and make him act a little mad—madness and hope that he greatly needed right now.
He didn’t want to perish without understanding why he was dying and where he would go after death, so he clung to life, maybe even more than others, more than those who gave him their lives and parts
of their bodies—just like that, out of fear.
of their bodies—just like that, out of fear.
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