Nayef

“I suppose it is submerged realities that give to dreams their curious air of hyper-reality. But perhaps there is something else as well, something nebulous, gauze-like, through which everything one sees in a dream seems, paradoxically, much clearer. A pond becomes a lake, a breeze becomes a storm, a handful of dust is a desert, a grain of sulphur in the blood is a volcanic inferno. What manner of theater is it, in which we are at once playwright, actor, stage manager, scene painter and audience?”
― W.G. Sebald, The Rings of Saturn

“الإنسان بطبعه جشعٌ منوع.. يؤوسٌ هلوع.. قنوطٌ جزوع.. مع علمه أن أجله مقطوع.. وأنه لن يموت من جوع!
لو كنت إنسيًا وأعلم أنني لن أعمّر سوى ستين أو سبعين سنة فقط، فسأقضي هذه السنين القليلة بين أحبابي، أشبع منهم قبل أن أفارقهم وأندم.. كما تندمون أنتم.”
― Ibraheem Abbas, حوجن [Ḥawjan]

“I am the twentieth century. I am the ragtime and the tango; sans-serif, clean geometry. I am the virgin's-hair whip and the cunningly detailed shackles of decadent passion. I am every lonely railway station in every capital of Europe. I am the Street, the fanciless buildings of government. the cafe-dansant, the clockwork figure, the jazz saxophone, the tourist-lady's hairpiece, the fairy's rubber breasts, the travelling clock which always tells the wrong time and chimes in different keys. I am the dead palm tree, the Negro's dancing pumps, the dried fountain after tourist season. I am all the appurtenances of night.”
― Thomas Pynchon, V.

“الصدف هي تبرير الجاهل لما لا يفقه”
― منذر القباني, حكومة الظل