I am the victim and the executioner I

For years, the Lebanese have "retired" from translating this documentary book, as they tried to convince themselves that the war was behind them and there was no need to reopen wounds. This is a unique book that deserves to be read with its Arabic translation. Someone brought me the shirt they found on Roland. The shirt was stained with blood. I was stunned by my surroundings and bowed in the bloody cloth, crying and mourning. I raised my hands holding the shirt above my head while my tongue babbled in mysterious prayers and my feet danced a primitive death dance. My hand felt the handle of the Colt hanging from my belt and checked the ammunition in my pocket. At that time, we no longer resembled humans in any way, at that time, where are we from and from our savage wolves. We were killing mercilessly, and the first to be stained with blood was the one who got the most, and the raised cup was the one who lost control among us. I was shooting, driven by the belief that the era of innocence and innocence had passed forever.