The edge overlooking the world

The first time I remember being in it, I was ten. I saw a girl who had just left her childhood, tall and slender with complete features, walking in the alley, followed by her younger brothers, shouting at them: "Oh, enough playing," and disappearing behind the Sidr tree at the corner. The next day, I was not playing as usual, and my brothers asked me: "What's wrong with you?" I replied contemptuously: "When do you play? Enough playing," and I watched the corner, waiting, trying to look like her, that I had just left my childhood, a chinless girl with a slim figure, the daughter of the two, killing everything. Generally, most things do not live more than the lifespan of a fly. The moment dies with its end, pleasure with its extinguishing, impulse with its shrinking insistence, dreams with their oars breaking, the soul with its mood swings. The human sleeps, and another wakes up. All the glories built, and the disappointments that have taken hold, can be wiped out in the blink of an eye and the absence of existence, to wake up stripped of the glory built, freed from the disappointment harvested. "Al-Nu'man Al-Sa'ih" sits as king on the balcony of his palace overlooking the features of his greatness, urging him into the shade, only to wake up wandering with his face, having left his kingly throne and disappeared completely. And "Muhammad bin Abdullah" is a deputy for his wife's trade in bed covers, terrified by the horror of what he saw, bound by the weight: his exile that kept him awake wandering in the wilderness, to wake up a messenger, for man sleeps, and sleep is a small death, and another wakes up. Author: ‎Ahmed Al-Huqail Publisher: ‎Dar Kalemat for Publishing and Distribution Number of pages: ‎302