Mohamed Abdelazim

“قلت لها إن الناس يجب ألا تتزوج إلا لكي تأتي للعالم بمن هو أفضل... طفل أجمل منك، أغنى منك، أقوى منك.
ما جدوى أن يتزوّج الشّقاء من التّعاسة؟ الهباب من الطّين؟
ما الجديد الّذي سنقدّمه للعالم سوى المزيد من البؤس؟”
― أحمد خالد توفيق, يوتوبيا

“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“اللحظة التى يفترض فيها الطاغية ان هذا الجسد الذى يكيل له الضربات ميت، هى غالبًا ذات اللحظة التى ينهض فيها الجسد للانتقام”
― أحمد خالد توفيق, السنجة

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore