Memories of a Prisoners -1-
To start or not to start…Walls that certifies on who was inside it, and words talking about its writers….A message for a friend or even a painting for one of the home patriotic signals…or even Handalah waiting in one of the corners….or the air, and what can I say about the air….the smell of the time that never passes away quickly…is it eleven pm or eleven am?? Sometimes it is difficult to the brain to know, unless you ask someone from those who sit with you…Quran is read, and stories are told…or voices are getting louder demanding for water or a cigarette…What is the reason and what are these people guilty of? What did these old men do to be here…watching them thinking of their children and women until they are desperate….A miserable story but can you surrender?? No or yes..i don’t know because minute after minute and hour after hour and day after day, the brain starts to acknowledge that there is no return to his bed in his warm house or the food of the house, and the beloved people of the house….and from here the journey starts…to be careful from this man or to listen to someone else, to be the friend of who you can be a friend of and the race to prove who is stronger….but at the end of the night…you start to think of what is waiting for you in the next day and where you will be sleeping, but its ok because there is this light that you really feel when you enter your room or your prison, because you know that everything has an end …that this journey will end after experiencing one of our land popular institutions….prison and prisoners, guilty of asking for freedom…
Loading ...