I am Nidal
Twenty years old
Single
Unemployed by life
My hobbies are hanging by a thread, postponing today's work until tomorrow, and cursing Arab rulers every morning.
I love Monica Bellucci and lips no one has tasted, and the voice of Umm Kulthum knocking on my window every morning like a mischievous child.
I don't like possibilities, and I dislike guessing, so I hate those to whom I give my complete clarity, only to have them begrudge me an answer.
What impact would the death of someone like me have?
One less Parliament cigarette smoker, one less baggy-dresser, one less Che Guevara and Ghassan Kanafani fan, the widowhood of doors untouched by anything but the wind, the dryness of lips kissed only by coffee cups, the desolation of paths trodden only by beasts, a decrease in oxygen consumption, and a very slight decrease in population density.
I am Nidal.
I run, carrying on my shoulders twenty years from which life has given me nothing but farewell waves, days that repeat themselves, and bad memories.
sharespot
