Sometimes I enjoy silence until words grow teeth and bite me to scream them out
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Anonymous said…
بعض كلماتنا قد تخرج بدون استئذان وبدون قدرة على كبتها فاحيانا يكون الصراخ هو وحده القادر على ملأ الفراغ الذي تخلفه عواصف المشاعر في داخلنا .. جميل ان تكون قادر على الصمت وجميل اكثر ان لا ياخذك بعيدا عن من احبوك ولا تمتلئ حياتهم الا بصخبك وضحكاتك
A book is a collection of ideas, findings and feelings written by someone who hopped that his words will survive longer then he does. Ironically, his book will be read by someone who either hopped to kill some time or who wanted to have a shortcut through the time needed to gain knowledge. A book is a way to manipulate our awareness of time.
Time lives on mistakes and wrongs acts. When we do anything right, it does not matter which comes first as long as this is right, but when we do a mistake it is a different story and now we need to know what happen first and what happen last. A mistake gives significance to time, we all know that heaven is eternal as it is perfectly flawless, time can't live there. Everything we know now, starts when time starts with a mistake, but who did it and why?
There are two parties doubting the after-life: Those who gave up hope of coming in peace with themselves and forgive their own actual and imaginative sins, those who like to believe that there is a universal personal end for everyone, and no one will rise from the dead to testify against their twisted ways of living. The second are those who chose to question everything, and their only objective in life is to find the truth.
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