Whenever I met the big man panicked. At first I was only pitying them and I do not know how a man can give in to such a loss. But bit today I say: between mind and madness rite. 18 * 2, thirty-six kilometers. I could hear the distance that the man was going back and forth every day, but I did not imagine it was the height of misery, but frightening. They were eight and I was nine. This is the whole chapter. We were not (teacher and pupils). I was a great sister or mother and they were little brothers and sons. This is not true. I was an expatriate, new to the Bedouin world, and weak. I needed them more than they needed me, or we needed each other just the same. I often feel that every little bit in the section is my legs or my father, and every girl is my mother or my big sister. They were courageous, strong, strong, and powerful and loyal. So I am cutting off today and they have reached the preparatory stage (this is not our subject). At first, the huge man was walking toward the section where there was no door to the school or fence, and he ran to the door to close it before he arrived. The young people read my fear, trying to reassure me: Ma Tkhavish is a teacher who is hungry. They exchange and shush each other, negotiate, settle on one or two, and the large piece of bread comes out with a bottle of water. The rest increases with the children. The man without my permission, narrates his need and travels. When going it seemed like my marchers were walking, and when evening came back he pulled his limbs. Now I just understood the meaning of thirty-six miles. (The maximum distance I walked at one time is 11 kilometers cost me more than a week of illness) today white hair thick eyebrows and white beard. It's long years. Weak weight. He became like the Tunisian Abdel Rahim in the film "Mall of the Peshklites". A crazy or trivial film or maybe I did not understand the director's vision. But the form of "Abdul Raouf" was cutting the heart.
All came out as a whole day. I was sitting in the lobby and I felt a sense of loneliness and was fed up with depression. I have a single obsession (I have to find a solution to this). I was worried about me. I became more isolated. I withdrew in the stairs so that no one would hold me (there was no time). If the phone rang, I curse the inventor. Today's invention can bring you good news, and no one can help you. And above this they enter you in so-called problems that you can not solve. They do not hit the raids, their neighborhood is not destroyed, the water is in the taps, the bread fills the markets (even the beach), the TVs do not stop and the entertainment is available. They are not deterred by security or intelligence, and have not been expelled from their countries, and have not found themselves begging the sea to bring them to safety rather than to swallow them. Their children go to school and wear the new day of the feast. . . When you see the case of some who have judged themselves to be the saddest in the world and thought of God's suspicions of simple things, it increases as your depression (there is something imperfect). We are a people with a high sense of life, we have everything to live "on the wire". We are poor and rich, ignorant and educated, big and small. But we have a problem: coexistence. We do not know the art of coexistence. Coexistence is almost the origin of all the disease, but the other problems do not count as a pretext. Coexistence is the solution. This requires culture and training.
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rawanebadre !
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