An Old Story
By Ali Kouadri
Translated by Mahmoud Abbas Masoud

He embraced his last dream as it emerged from the hazy mirage. Purifying himself with a ray of pride, he smiled at the approaching dawn. Using the water of eternity and the letters of light, he scripted a word, thereby kindling a flame inside gloomy vaults. He pressed on to the public square and began his old story: "I was a young lad then, my children, and the homeland was both a prison and an exile... and it was much more...