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Without Her (1)

Without Her (1)

On The Ambiguity Of Probability

I see them descending there; in the quivering haze of a mirage. Their statures break slowly until I barely discern whether they were human or merely obscured images? Some of their details slide to float away, making me think they would perish in the haze. But before long they would catch up with those critical details of theirs and emerge. The knock of their boots echoing in a shoreless expanse.
And, away have I distanced myself!
Away from all appeals have I taken to chopping my firewood;
anticipating a long and cold winter without her, without a ripple; a comeback.
Things take their course while I watch.
Paths get stirred by my silence.
In every detail, it is the same whether I am surprised or not.
I have to remember what happened had to happen! All contexts were to round up regardless of my emanations into what they impact. So what do need I need me for?
But these a priori conclusions
are never to be reached until you arrive at those thorny terminals
where nothing is beyond.
Where it turns out, in a final and a stark reckoning,
that the things you fought were mightier than your strife.
That your struggle itself was, before collapsing, the common denominator
in all the cases where you had assumed denial and the effacement of roles!
You can even conclude that your active life was sheer egocentricity.
See how flagrant that is?!
But they, the episodes and the transformations do not like this observation!
Mites do not heed the amount of damage consequent on their "miting"!
Your readiness to defeat your enemies does not matter if the whole thing is put in reverse! Therefore, stick to any emerging context. You will find that indifference is the slogan that happenings raise in the face of your meddling in their fate!
Who do you think you are? Bigger than a homeland?
They, the episodes and the transformations have raised more than that in the face of those glorious, voluntary custodians of values; deeds that cracked the jars of the drinking pals of change sending them scrambling for heeltap. What couldn't they do to you?

Her marriage to the goalkeeper scorches you as one of the caustic episodes.
I do not object that a goalkeeper ventures into the wilderness of the 'big' questions and their burning answers. Camus was a goal-keeper! Look at his face. Camus's not your rival's. Philosophy does not do that to faces. Apart from what Camus did, tens of years might pass without anyone knowing anything significant a goalkeeper had done following his downfall. Might be he had absorbed her theses and transcended them! Maybe her sudden marriage to him created that state at which one just dumps theses under the cover of married life!
(to be contd)

Read original text in Arabic HERE
Drawings courtesy of Google graffiti.

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