Monica

“القصيدة توصف الدم الذكي
ما تشيلش نقطة
توصف ألام اللي ماتت بنتها قدام عينيها
بس وصف
وصف جيد…….وصف خايب
وصف صادق….وصف كاذب
في النهاية……….كلة وصف
كل شعر الوصف
مايساويش في سوق الحق صرخة
الكلام عن كل دة
شئ من التطاول
إنما…..لازم نحاول”
― عبد الرحمن الأبنودي, الموت علي الأسفلت

“أنا هو أنا ولديَّ أسبابي ،وليس لديَّ ما يجعلني ممتناً لك أو لغيرك. كل طموحي أن أبقى وحدي سليماً وأن يذهب العالم كباكيدج إلى الجحيم”
― أحمد العايدي, أن تكون عباس العبد

“Isn't it odd how much fatter a book gets when you've read it several times?" Mo had said..."As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells...and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower...both strange and familiar.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

“That same night, I wrote my first short story. It took me thirty minutes. It was a dark little tale about a man who found a magic cup and learned that if he wept into the cup, his tears turned into pearls. But even though he had always been poor, he was a happy man and rarely shed a tear. So he found ways to make himself sad so that his tears could make him rich. As the pearls piled up, so did his greed grow. The story ended with the man sitting on a mountain of pearls, knife in hand, weeping helplessly into the cup with his beloved wife's slain body in his arms.”
― Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner