tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3923138756925726382024-03-01T23:50:26.557-08:00Mahmoud Mansi (Critic Reviews)Native Literature, Words written for Artists and Scientists.Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-49508394836337264032012-10-01T14:39:00.002-07:002012-10-08T13:22:28.299-07:00Bridges Writing Competition : Social Harmony between Men and Women<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"><b style="background-color: black;">Bridges Writing Competition</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"><b style="background-color: black;">Social Harmony between Men and Women</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"><b style="background-color: black;">Organized By : MAC Club, The Forgotten Writers Foundation & Alexandria Regional Centre for Women's Health and Development</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;">The cooperation between both sexes has always been a subject that deserves further contemplation, for this communication or so called “harmony” creates the next generation. Write a piece in any form of (short story / diary / essay) from 500 to 2000 words that reveals the differences between both genders and building a bridge to fill this gap.</span><span style="font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;">The aim behind this competition is to explore the contemporary minds of our generation towards variables as sexism, feminism, democracy, and discrimination in this subject, and make use of the solutions suggested.</span><span style="font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;">We seek in your content originality, creativity, and sophistication, for we do not aim at discussing the same ideas again and again, we do not seek repetition. However, we do seek the birth of new theories and knowledge. We seek to offer the world new pieces of advice through YOU.</span><span style="font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;">The competition is also international, to stimulate diversity in our case study and be able to build <i>bridges</i> between different cultures and not only between genders.</span></div>
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Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-68927561163321464312012-09-03T04:46:00.001-07:002012-09-03T04:46:18.204-07:00Revolution of Pirates / A story of thugs and the Egyptian Revolution - Mahmoud Mansi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">By: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mahmoud Mansi</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sucking the perfumed air through the nostrils of his nose, he roared upon the waste of his wealth. The smell of rubbish always made him feel home, and reminded him of how much he loathed this home of his, but he had no enough room for choices and feelings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This perfume was a blend of rotten food, decaying animals, human waste, nature’s pollution and bacteria. It gathered the secrets of homes and evidence of massive amounts of misused money… but rarely when one finds money in its real monetary shape that is birthed in the central bank, cherished and nursed in the other banks. He sarcastically wondered: why would people prefer to find excuses to spend or waste their money? These piles of garbage are all packs of wasted sacrificed money that he could have had in his pockets instead, to feed his hungry family and not sadistically watching it fed to the mouths of the ungrateful streets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He kept walking, not away from this perfume-like smell, but deeper and deeper into it, until he reached his house. Strange those who own money, they find luxury in buying what they don’t need and in throwing part of it, and paralyzing the rest in their bank accounts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One can learn much from staring at others’ rubbish and crap, analyzing what they need and what they don’t need, knowing their capabilities, social class, morals and what value of information they carry, exactly as a physician can know from the solid and liquid wastes of a human being, scrutinizing them in a laboratory. One would sure know the amount one eats, the amount digested, the amount needed, one would know which body function is not working well, and if this person is greedy or not… The laboratory of human beings is their garbage can. This was the way AbdRabo thought, a robust Egyptian, living in a society that was never introduced to either his country or to the world, a society that only exists in Egypt, yet unnoticed by Egyptians, they are only classified under the wrong names. The government gathered all the wastes and garbage of the city and threw them in this area. AbdRabo and his people lived among these piles of dirt and found a way to survive there. He and his kind were like the roaches that fed on the harmful bacteria growing within the society. They were found there for a reason, an ecological one that balances everything, though people might see them ugly, disgusting, useless and they might be very much loathed and neglected too. However, one of the businesses AbdRabo’s family ran was the collection of the different elements of garbage and making it useful in one way or the other, it was the only kind of wealth they could collect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The facial details of AbdRabo would not matter much, though they look very special and inspiring, however what matters more is the story which created such details over time. Events in life do have a way in sculpting the way one looks, and they do leave a permanent print on these faces. Babies usually have the same face when birthed, and then it changes. They do fool us with the DNA bullshit and such scientific theories, not knowing that life creates science and not the other way around. AbdRabo, a simple Egyptian man, unknown, not existing to the whole world, but a thinker with great philosophy of which if written or implemented would perhaps make him the richest man on Earth, or a dead corpse laying on its back and refused by the people of the same Earth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He entered his home to find it twinkling with loud voices. He ignored all the sources and delved deeper into the grave of his own, until he found all his family, friends and neighbors celebrating. He did not know the reason indeed, strange to suddenly find people in your house, but he was used to that. He walked through all while trying to keep himself as invisible as possible until he would reach the door of his room, but of course he failed to keep this rhythm to the very end. For sure he would fail, even though he was enshrouded with his Arab veil, yet some people in life do shine as a shooting star does and captures all the hearts when seen by its viewers, especially when one makes a wish. It was his cousin who spotted him first and stopped him to pass a warm salute and a sincere ‘congratulations’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“We finally did it cousin!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What is it exactly that we’ve done?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The Revolution! The Government! The System! And how can we deny that this is all because of you our great godfather…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And this is why you mother fuckers are making my house as crowded as a pig yard?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Pigs! God forbid, it’s just that there is no better and suitable place but yours…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And I thought this was an engagement party or a proposal…” AbdRabo pushed his cousin away with anger that everyone in the room noticed. He stared at them, with his elegant power and earned pride, revealing the fierce eyes that sometimes tend to be unkind and said, “Are you coming to congratulate me before we even start working! You think this is a revolution which occurred? You think this is the shit that would bring us back our buried rights? The efforts we have put into this revolution will only bring <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their </i>rights, but never ours, the people who live above us; the human beings, but to them we are only animals, donkeys, horses and cows that pull and transport their heavy stuff, and we will remain this way to those who are valuable and those who are not as long as we feel happiness for something that never affects us, for something that we never owned before, exactly as – excuse my language – a dog does when he moves his tail just because his owner is happy or excited about anything silly. This revolution was done against the government and the system, and against our enemies there, but it was not sufficient at all, because the lost rights we possess are nearly countless. The dirty government planted its dirt within the hearts of people, not only on the surface of their bodies. The government knew that this would happen someday, thus through delegating their sick minds to some of the people, this would make their evil live for longer. Our hands are spotless from their hypocrisy, and I want to tell you that our rights will come pretty soon, but starting in our homes by praying is not enough at all. God deserves more than that! Not to worry, we will find much time for celebrating later, good night people…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After this night speech, AbdRabo went to the bathroom and washed his hands, face, arms and feet, then went to perform his prayers. His wife speaking to him in a mocking way, “I wonder, is this the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Isha</i> Prayers or the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sunna</i> ones after midnight? Sheikh AbdRabo!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He laughed with a grim, “And what difference would it make woman! as long as I am bowing to God in both cases? Do you think God Almighty will leave one of his servants bowing before Him, and will wonder if he or she is bowing for the sake of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Isha</i> prayers or the after midnight ones?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Wouldn’t you think that it would have been better if you peed the beer you drank first?” She laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La takrabo al salah wa antom sokara</i>)<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ya homarah</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a>!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The wife continued laughing and lighted the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bekhor</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[3]</span></span></span></span></a>, “The world is taking your mind away these days, not only the contemporary world, but all the years that passed by, the past of each one of us. We are all handing you our burdens to lift for us, we all confess our weakness, but we are all living within the castle walls of your thick and wide heart and contemplating every single particle of feelings flowing within the chambers of your castle. Come here my dear…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He looked at her in silence, but his eyes glittering like those of a child, and then he surrendered to her hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The beggar moved to the pavement that captivated more attention and sat there to start her new day, as she believed that a human being must see at least a small particle of misery with each day. She used to say that to her granddaughter while teaching her the codes of the job and its importance, “My sweetheart, our mission is difficult, there is no engineer or doctor that could perform it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The little girl answered, “But grandma, I don’t want to learn begging.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Silly you, I am not telling you to become a beggar, I am merely teaching you something that would add benefit to you in any field you want to work in. I’m teaching you a gift not a skill, and who knows, maybe – God forbid – life tightens and darkens your path, same as it did with mine…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The old lady remembered all this while flashing a sweet smile in the spot she rested in. Through this ‘job’ of hers, she was only asking for a favor or a kind of help, either the other party responded or ignored. “It’s a job that is full of honesty and provides good feelings to the people; the givers…” she thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She kept being stable waiting for God to lean the hearts of the passersby, but no one donated with even a simple look, “Maybe people do not need such good feelings anymore…” she thought. “Those dogs only admire spending their money in gambling and games only, but to them we are not even worth a good word.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She stood up and went back home, leaving her work behind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo walked to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kahwa</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[4]</span></span></span></span></a>, wearing all black, where he found <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Belya</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn5" name="_ftnref5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[5]</span></span></span></span></a> telling him good morning while carrying a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheesha</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn6" name="_ftnref6" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn6;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[6]</span></span></span></span></a>, “I prepared it loaded this time our master, and please be generous and accept it as a gift from me…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hashish</i> has its own time and mood <i>Alewah</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn7" name="_ftnref7" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn7;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[7]</span></span></span></span></a>, make it a plain cup of coffee, and let us hear the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fatha</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn8" name="_ftnref8" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn8;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[8]</span></span></span></span></a> from you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo started tasting the coffee until he finished half of the cup while profoundly being in depth with something unfamiliar to his observers. He acted as if he stopped thinking when his followers showed up, each wearing a different outfit which reflected the different jobs and endeavors each was going through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They said to one another, “Strange, the master came early today, and he is not smoking the special thing…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo stared at them, “You are late…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“But we came exactly on time, and how can we ever dare to be late on you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I didn’t mean myself, but you were late in your decisions, and I came early today to light this candle and let you see what lies beneath it…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ahmed spoke, who was one of his best friends and most loyal followers, not only a cousin. Ahmed was silent the whole time, although his heart wanted to say much yet his tongue always controlled itself. This was all part of his personality not only part of the current situation. However after the internal endeavor he managed to unearth part of his thoughts, “But… I think we waited because we wanted to, we are not late at all.” He said so because he felt some agony behind AbdRabo’s stony tone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t spoil the surprise and fire blank shots or I will fire a hole in this soul of yours,” AbdRabo said then he looked at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Belya</i>, “Now is the right time for the ‘special mood’…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One of the listeners said, “You made us curious indeed. You know quite well that we are real MEN, always behind you, even if we will have to cross through Hell or even if it was the destination itself, exactly as the soldiers of the Pharaoh walked right behind him into the heart of the Red Sea. Of course I mean metaphorically speaking, with respect to our good intentions.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ahmed hit the guy who spoke with his elbow, while on the other hand <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Belya</i> finally appearing with the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sheesha</i>. AbdRabo calm as ice, manipulating the coal of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sheesha</i> while going on with his conversation, “We are actually going into the heart of the sea, but we are tough, we will come out of it with all its treasures carried on our back for our country and children.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And where is this Solomon treasure that we are speaking about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo finally drew a very calm and sly smile on his face while sucking the first smoky air of his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sheesha</i> after he spent minutes trying to tame its taste as much as possible. They all observed him as they started laughing with relaxation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fire dominated the place, and flames cursed its inhabitants, reddish streets, exploding sounds, alien voices, reeks of fear, adrenaline, hunger, satisfaction… this was only a launch of a Molotov, and these descriptions were merely the reflection of one’s sick mind and cured heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The narrow streets were crowded with people, undefined people, but mainly they all looked like AbdRabo and his fellow gang, yeah they did, same alike faces, language, skin color, body, and of course the same savage, uncivilized spirit… that is what an observer would have said, just an observer, just another reader checking the world under a veil of eyeglasses with a slight taste of sarcasm, right before going to sleep or on the way to work, that is when life becomes just another comic book that is far away from one’s daily routine until reality would accidently or intentionally reach the front door and break it without knocking or taking permission… that is exactly what happened to the government in the first revolution, and that is exactly what is happening now in the underground revolution, AbdRabo thought and shared with his followers while burning the street together. This was him indeed, standing as usual, roaring as he always did when excited, his brothers were around him and in front of him along the extension of the street, all swaying their weapons as if they were tribes of cannibals. There were sounds of gunshots and louder ones of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tok-Tok </i>songs. One of them walked proudly while wearing a dozen of female necklaces, stolen by his bare hands that never touched any kind of a shiny metal ever. There was a sword in his right hand, swaying it as his ego accelerated, same as the degree of humiliation in the rich ones did. On the other side of the street there was a drunk gangster walking along, and while holding his bottle and dancing with it between the flames of fire he shouted, “Today we will finally live, breathe and sleep, and from now on, with each night that passes we will keep you up and worry you with our snoring.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Images of anger were surely captured by many photographers on such a night, taken without cameras, but imprinted in the book of memories that does not need a tangible picture for memory recovery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Insanity was in the air, half of the Earth celebrating and the other half in agony, only this time it was flipped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Not very long after the implementation of AbdRabo’s plan did he gather all his people; all the wives and husbands, widows and widowers, and served them this speech:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Our parents refused to clean us and make us work for them, they refused to teach us the words of books of which we need not, but they indeed taught us manhood and raised us up till we became <i>real</i> men; poor, hungry and stubborn… all for a reason, which is being a living proof for the crimes that has been happening against us by this infernal society from before our birth. These crimes defaced our fathers and grandfathers. We were raised this way to only understand what has been happening in this country, not only understand but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">experience</i> what it feels like, so that when this day comes; to finally unite and rise, we would not only tend to defend our rights, but the rights of those people who are filling the hollowness of our graveyards and feeding them their lives. We will finally have the chance to write the real <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">history</i> of this country, the forbidden true one that was never written in books or spoken in public. True, we are folks who are not educated at all, yet we are never fooled like all the engineers, professors, doctors, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hawanem</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn9" name="_ftnref9" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn9;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[9]</span></span></span></span></a> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bakawat</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn10" name="_ftnref10" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn10;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[10]</span></span></span></span></a>… today our voice will echo in each home in Egypt, and will vibrate in each Egyptian heart…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Chaos was the new seed that finally endeavored to penetrate its crust and conquer the earth with its roots. The thugs were everywhere and their voices were louder than ever. Fear of people was smelled by all creatures. The ‘Baltagiya’ became the new topic all the news channels and papers gossiped about. Those thugs made it internationally too, when the foreign media spread their deeds and delivered their piracy to the other half of the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo looked upon his kingdom, beyond the crowds circulating around him, to check upon those who were far from the center of his power, at those who were roaming within the farthest of his kingdom’s boundaries. He found one of his followers lifting a sword up to the level of his eyes and staring at the falling drops of blood slipping from its blade while madly laughing. He looked more to find others who gathered upon one of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">felool</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn11" name="_ftnref11" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn11;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[11]</span></span></span></span></a> hitting him, taking his money then leaving him go away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The rest of AbRabo’s speech:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Out there, we hear them speak about human rights and racism, and here we are cursed to live under the authority of people who are not aware of those who are living above and beneath them. We became hungry and no one filled our stomachs, we did mistakes and no one punished us, we died from diseases and no one mourned us. The religious sects accused us of infidelity and called each one of us a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kaffir</i>, and the businessmen bankrupt us, and from the forbidden they deprived us. Our children couldn’t buy the decent wine, so they sniffed glue, they couldn’t have sex so they rapped…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo lit a cigarette with pride and said, “Now we can start celebrating. Now we have the right to.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He drove one of the stolen cars and a few others joined and followed him. They were all drunk and firing random shots from their pistols on the buildings and in the air, and sometimes at the vehicles of one another. “The country belonged to the government for thirty years, and in eighteen days it was owned by ones who called themselves ‘the people’, but in one day only, it became ours…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They gathered once again in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kahwa</i>, but this time each was wearing normal clothes instead of their work outfits. For this became their new job and endeavor. Even when they gained much money from robbing the banks and people, but this was never defined as an enough bribe to buy their morals and the revolution they started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What is new, folks? What shall we do with this treasure of gold, money and pride?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ahmed said, “We will fill with them our hungry stomachs and offer some medicine to our bodies so we can complete our fresh journey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo threw one of the golden bracelets on the floor, “Satan will not bribe us as he bribed them and shut their voices off. Now let’s have a tour to visit the museums that we have never seen of our beloved new country.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Two of the thugs were speaking under the shades of darkness and between the shadows of the monstrous buildings of the city. One of them wondered openly within the solitude of the street, “Is it true that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">El-Mealem</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn12" name="_ftnref12" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn12;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[12]</span></span></span></span></a> wants to attack the museums?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The other replied, “Brother, have you ever seen the monuments of our country?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Only on T.V…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“This means we are still not sure if the things we see in the local channels are our real monuments or not? We never saw what is beyond the walls of the museums, we barely memorize their names. Maybe the government is fooling us in this too? Maybe they are all fake monuments…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yeah why not! Have you ever been to one of these museums?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“There was once a time when my mind was blocked and everything was odd, the trees seemed like angels of death and the air they breathed lacked ambition. I knew that it was not a day for a struggling fighter like myself, it was a day for one who was already written in the pages of destiny as a victorious being. I knew that it was not one of those days when you can make money or even earn some, thus I decided to take the day off and walk aimlessly. I found an old prestigious building and I knew it was a museum, and I became sure when I read the sign. I still don’t remember the name of it though. Anyway, while I was waiting for my turn in one of those ‘lines’ that slaves in the old days used to row in them in order to get their meal, clothes and exchange a few meaningless words and silent looks with those who have authority. I barely handled the feeling till I noticed the looks that other people gave to me. They were staring at me as if I carried a different religion and belong to another country, as if the clothes I am wearing are not of a human being. I felt naked, I felt like an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aawra</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn13" name="_ftnref13" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn13;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[13]</span></span></span></span></a> right among them. I simply walked away and returned to my home instead. I never felt that these monuments belonged to our country. I have always felt that they were understood and owned by others…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The other man thought and contemplated, “So this would not be stealing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He chuckled, “Is it possible that one can steal from himself you drunk freak? These things belong to us, and now we are calling for our long forgotten rights…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Huh, so true. It would have been much logical if they judged the ones who took our monuments out of the country that are spread all over the world where each tourist is a witness on this robbery!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In the murkiness of the museum, while the slight light was glaring upon the ancient statues, the faces of the ancient kings and queens seemed like the only source of light, sparkling like pieces of gold. AbrRabo stood there stating back at them with his eyes sparking back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“By the will of God we made it. It’s true that we vanquished our enemies, but the final artistic touch that should be left in end is still missing. This will be the mark that they will always remember us with. I have sent a letter to the ones who are responsible, demanding that WE would have our own political point of view and create our own political party where others can listen to us and criticize our plans. We will have this chance that one day we will have the ability to ask for our rights as Egyptians and make this country better with the philosophy of our ancestors along with ours. Think about it, we are the ones living down, we are the ones in direct contact with the earth of this land, but they are the ones living in high towers, moving from one place to another while breathing the air-conditioned air. And one of the biggest pieces of evidence is that we have added a new word to the world’s contemporary dictionary, which is ‘Baltageya’. None of the educated ones of our own country succeeded in adding or even removing anything from the global world. They had no influence at all, as if our country didn’t even exist on the map of this world. We have to attack some more areas just to assure the success of our revolution, but without causing any damages this time…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Five of the thugs walked through one of the city streets, fearless among the other people, each was carrying a sword and an armor. They first started by making noise and terrorizing the natives of the street with their loud curses. The Civil Resistance descended from their homes and circled around the thugs, each carrying a different weapon. Both sects started a fierce fight and the natives killed two of the thugs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The reaming three returned back to AbdRabo with shame stroking their faces. AbdRabo looked back at them with contemplation and passion, “Tell me what happened? Where are the rest of you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“We followed your orders and went to the area you told us about, and we found its natives attacking us with weapons similar to ours. They were not afraid of us! and they killed two of our own…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo laughed like a demon with flames of mystery and rage circulating around him until he fell from his chair. When he rose and shouted, “We made it!! Our revolution has finally been victorious!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They all looked at him with curiosity and doubt, “How come?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He put his hands on their shoulders as he said, “Now every citizen of our country is carrying a weapon. Every one became a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Baltagy</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn14" name="_ftnref14" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn14;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[14]</span></span></span></span></a>. Our revolution is real while theirs’ has not settled on a distinctive shape yet. Who is more Egyptian now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">AbdRabo endeavored to make this political party of his own people official in order to implement the demands of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> Egyptians who finally made it through the thick layers of the earth until they reached the surface, the same demands of their grandfathers, until one of those days when he was coming back from this work, he was brutally attacked by the army soldiers. They tied him up the same way wild animals are chained right after being captured, and AbdRabo finally fell, before he even had the chance to rise. He fell with shame eating him alive, the shame of not being able to fight for one more day, while vociferating with all his energy and dignity, “Execute me you sick bastards.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The beggar sat on the pavement in company with her sadness. Her little granddaughter arrived while dressed in her little school uniform to sit on the lap of her grandmother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why didn’t you go to school my dear?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t want to go to the school again grandma…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“And why so? Don’t you know that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Baba</i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftn15" name="_ftnref15" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn15;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[15]</span></span></span></span></a> would be so happy if you did?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Baba</i> will be happier if I worked with you, especially that he is not here and we are in need of money…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her grandmother hugged her so tight, imprinting a kiss on her tiny cheeks, “Do you remember what I have taught you before?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes grandma.” She jumped from her lap and sat right next to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Some passersby suddenly showed up, and some of them looked with empathy and love towards the two beggars and gave them some money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The child looked up at her grandmother with happiness glittering through her eyes for finally being able to earn money and do something with a tangible effect. The grandmother smiled with kindness and wisdom while saying, “This sum of money is the biggest proof on the success of your father’s revolution. People started to feel and support us. I want you to always be proud of your father for he is a great man. The deeds he performed in the darkness of these streets changed the path of Egypt, but the newspapers do not dare speak about such incidents, because they cannot be put into words in the cheap frame of an earthly article or essay, long and wide, seen by everyone and understood by none. This is a language of angels my dear…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Egyptian man carrying the Egyptian expressions walks in the Egyptian street. His tough facial terrains express his tiredness. While appearing to be so thirsty he goes to the juice shop to find it closed. He knocks on the door and insists. He keeps knocking several times, but no response at all. He loses hope and walks away. He keeps walking until reaching a very empty place, away from the city, away from the country, away from Earth. He starts spinning in circles with his dress flying in the air around him… He is silently praying now with each spin. He never stops, he never gets tired, he never gets bored, he never dies…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> <span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">(Do not come close to prayer when you are drunk</span>…) Quote from Verse 43, Chapter 4; Women, The Holy Quran.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Female donkey.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[3]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Incense, also believed to have a spiritual effect.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Oriental Egyptian coffee shop.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[5]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> The assistant of the master of the coffee shop.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref6" name="_ftn6" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn6;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[6]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Water pipe.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref7" name="_ftn7" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn7;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[7]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Egyptian nickname for Ali.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref8" name="_ftn8" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn8;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[8]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> The Fatha, first Chapter in the Holy Quran, also read when someone passes away.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref9" name="_ftn9" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn9;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[9]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Aristocratic Lady.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref10" name="_ftn10" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn10;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[10]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Plural of ‘bek’ which was an ancient title below ‘pasha’ and used nowadays to refer to someone rich or in a higher authority.<span dir="rtl" lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref11" name="_ftn11" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn11;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[11]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> An Egyptian word spread after the revolution that refers to the followers and supporters of the old system.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref12" name="_ftn12" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn12;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[12]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Master in a certain profession.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref13" name="_ftn13" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn13;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[13]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> It is a word that refers to the sexual organs of a male or female that should be covered, that when exposed they cause shame.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref14" name="_ftn14" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn14;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[14]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Single for the word baltageya.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=392313875692572638#_ftnref15" name="_ftn15" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn15;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[15]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;"> Papa.</span></div>
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Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-75325343940420737602012-04-15T12:43:00.001-07:002012-04-15T12:44:51.287-07:00TEDxAlexandriaU 2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgipKAvinyk_K0QuCM6q6M912jxUqteTjSu7shBPRtZbmAc3a3TNm7bzRTX3Eaah6-EF3WRaibBErtRnk69DqXmqwVBB94AKN0myeT06uzOsjAl7QW56j8gyhyyIySrIhcQZrkJSnwskfI/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgipKAvinyk_K0QuCM6q6M912jxUqteTjSu7shBPRtZbmAc3a3TNm7bzRTX3Eaah6-EF3WRaibBErtRnk69DqXmqwVBB94AKN0myeT06uzOsjAl7QW56j8gyhyyIySrIhcQZrkJSnwskfI/s320/3.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" dir="RTL" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;"><span dir="LTR" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">TEDx AlexandriaU is an independently organized conference of aspiring volunteers who wanted to present TED to the Alexandrian community. In 2011, Alexandria witnessed the launch of the first self-organized TED event in Alexandria, Egypt with versatile ideas in the fields of technology, art, and entertainment. With its videos available for online viewing, TEDx AlexandriaU 2011 came to influence many. This year, its volunteering staff members wish to present TEDx AlexandriaU in an improved and a more influential manner. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" dir="RTL" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;"><span dir="LTR" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 2012, TEDx AlexandriaU aims to tackle different ideas under the umbrella of the Egyptian culture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With speakers being auditioned and recommended by their friends and admirers, it is certain that this year will be a TED-like experience with an Egyptian flavor. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" dir="RTL" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;"><span dir="LTR" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The raw influence of unique ideas gives life a worth and an appeal. Every country enjoys its own identity and culture. That is why they chose our Egyptian culture as this year's theme; to revive what belongs to us; what is withering under the pressure of globalization and open online communication. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, to our surprise, we found numerous speakers with invaluable ideas pertaining to our identity and culture and all the topics that it can foster. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" dir="RTL" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;"><span dir="LTR" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>TED signifies the value of ideas and the impact they can engender. With the availability of holding an independent, self-organized TED event in any place around the world, all those with ideas worth spreading can stand up, inhale deeply, and spread their ideas like the sweetest aromas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Facebook profile: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/tedxalexandriau"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">https://www.facebook.com/tedxalexandriau</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Facebook page:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/TEDxAlexU"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">https://www.facebook.com/TEDxAlexU</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
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</div></div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-57399053304705742522012-01-20T08:04:00.002-08:002012-11-08T22:40:35.107-08:00International Women's Day Short Story Competition / Women's Domination / The Forgotten Writers Foundation.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Forgotten Writers Foundation</span></u></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2<sup>nd</sup> Short Story Competition</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Topic: “Women’s Domination”</span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbazZEwwjxJb-PjLoPYXDMGOyjjIAmC2zJKXpV4b1Ohj5WcYjqkQ6PAIluBE6x0yi1t4JvqdBb-xCpddVJqK_ta6HhX30GXjOkFYYWUyCvVhOhooMh8d77UbhzZOLCvqjTjP4rE-RjVk/s1600/Women%2527s+Domination.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="400" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbazZEwwjxJb-PjLoPYXDMGOyjjIAmC2zJKXpV4b1Ohj5WcYjqkQ6PAIluBE6x0yi1t4JvqdBb-xCpddVJqK_ta6HhX30GXjOkFYYWUyCvVhOhooMh8d77UbhzZOLCvqjTjP4rE-RjVk/s400/Women%2527s+Domination.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><em>The Dancer, Painted By: Amel Mostapha, from her painting “Vixen Spell”.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><em>The Surrounding Art is Designed by: Ahmed Mohamed Hassan.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">إرشادات المسابقة باللغة العربية في نهاية الصفحة</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong><u>Introduction about the Foundation:</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">“The Forgotten Writers” foundation was created after the Egyptian revolution with a clear Mission Statement to reveal the depth of Egyptian Literature to the rest of the world. This would be done by writing about cultural and social topics that are original and novel and </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">collaborating</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> with other cultures, through the story competitions that are released. The first project this foundation offered was a workshop of short stories about the revolution by twelve Egyptian residents.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Foundation issued its first short story competition with the title of <span style="color: red;">“Resurrection of Ancient Egypt”</span> and it has witnessed so far a wide range of attraction from the media and people. For knowing the results of the first competition please visit: <a href="http://marwarakha.com/?p=6450">http://marwarakha.com/?p=6450</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Women’s Domination” is the second competition offered by the Forgotten Writers Foundation. The theme is about writing stories that reveal the power of women in terms of direct and metaphorical gestures and lines.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The competition is open to all women and men who are feminists and anti-feminists, and the aim of it is to measure how both sexes in different cultures perceive women’s domination.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I do not personally believe in setting rules in writing and in formulating guidelines. A writer is a mini-creator who has the absolute freedom in writing whatever, and however. This competition is a little different, so the guidelines set below are not to limit the creativity of the writer, but only to direct it to the main social and scientific goal of this competition.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><u>About the Women's Domination Competition:</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="color: #274e13;">Write a story starting by a woman dominating a man, it can either be political, emotional, financial, economical, sexual, or work domination. The artists are free to be creative in any kind of domination, whether positive or negative, because this will help us when we write the literary analysis on how human beings measure power towards the other sex, and if they view it as a threat or protection! We strongly believe that there are still unwritten theories about the psychology of a human being, and feminism/anti-feminism sciences. We are expecting our writers to bring the best of their cores and nourish the world with new theories, for a better social communication between genders and with the self.</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It is better that all the stories start by the concept of domination. And there is a reason behind this. When testing a variable one usually puts different people under the same circumstances, and amazingly observes the wonders of the human mind from their reflex actions. This will help us much in our analysis, and some people claim that this might affect the creativity of the writer, however I think creativity is always there and even if one is give the starting and ending line, one has the chance to make an unexpected body!</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Eligibility:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The competition is open for Egyptians and Non-Egyptians.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Applicable for age of sixteen and above.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">3- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Eligible for both; females and males.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">4- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fluent English.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">5- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Unpublished work.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">6- One is allowed to submit more than one entry.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">General Competition Guidelines:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maximum 3,000 words / Minimum 500 words.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You (Male or Female) are the first narrator, it is not allowed for a man for instance to choose to become a first narrator for the woman protagonist or vice versa, because we will be doing a psychological analysis on how genders view "free and powerful women". / For (Transgender Writers), you are free to choose the sex to write about.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">3- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There must be a title for the story.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">4- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It is possible to use illustrations as figures, pictures and drawings if you are a painter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">5- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It is possible to include your own poetry within your story.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">6- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It is NOT possible to use quotes from other writers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">7- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You are free to choose any genre of horror, fantasy, politics, romance, or any other one.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">8- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You are free to use any kind of style, however we do not allow <u>unnecessary</u> sexual vocabulary or <u>extra</u> obscene scenes due to the respect of all cultures, if they are irrelevant to the philosophy of the text.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">9- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Numbers must be written in (words) except if it was a date-year / ex: 1996 – Seven years old.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">10- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Write using American English (spelling and vocabulary).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">11- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Do not use (&) instead of (And).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">12- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The submission period starts from the “International Women’s Day” / 8 – March – 2012 , until 28 - February - 2013 .</span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Guidelines for Women:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1- For instance if t</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">he Story would start by the following sentence (or a similar one) that reflects the meaning of the domination of a woman over a man in any way, and the scene-story should be completed:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ex: “As I planted my heels upon his so-called strong chest, to where his heart lay, my roots found their way through the thick masculinity of his body, into the deepest of his heart…”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Conversations are allowed, however revealing the woman’s thoughts, feelings and philosophy regarding all aspects of the story is <u>NEEDED</u>, including domination.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">3- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Writing about the man’s internal feelings is NOT allowed, however anticipation is highly recommended, <u>for example:</u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">· </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You are allowed to say this: (<u>I felt</u> the subjection of his heart, his weakness, his longing…etc.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">· </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You are NOT allowed to say this: (<u>He felt</u> weak, lustful, the chemistry…etc.)</span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Guidelines for Men:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1- For instance if t</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">he Story would start by the following sentence (or a similar one) that reflects the meaning of the domination of a woman over a man in any way, and the scene-story should be completed:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ex: “As she planted her heels upon my so-called strong chest, to where my heart lay, her roots found their way through the thick masculinity of my body, into the deepest of my heart…”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Conversations are allowed, however revealing the man’s thoughts, feelings and philosophy of being dominated through the story is <u>NEEDED</u>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">3- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Writing about the women’s internal feelings is NOT allowed, however anticipation is highly recommended, <u>for example:</u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">· </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You are allowed to say this: (<u>I felt</u> her power, her greatness, her greed, her carelessness, her generosity…etc.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">· </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You are NOT allowed to say this: (<u>She felt</u> divine, she felt my weakness, my love…etc.)</span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Submission Guidelines:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">All stories are sent via email.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Word Document: Font must be Times New Roman, 12, Margins Justified and Pages Numbered.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">3- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Title of the story must be centered in the middle of the page, bold, and size 12.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">4- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Do not mention your name in the word document.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">5- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Save the word file with your Name and Title on it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">6- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Please include in the email message these details; Your (Home Country, Resident Country, Political Notion-Party, Religion-Belief), these details will help us in our study when publishing the Book to understand the concept of women’s domination, and see if it is more related to the culture one belongs to, or to the instinct in humanity, and if such details are too personal, forget about them and just send us your story please, and we apologize!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">7- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Kindly email your stories to: <a href="mailto:Native_Writer@Yahoo.com"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Native_Writer@Yahoo.com</span></span></a> , write in the title: Your Name – Women’s Domination – Submission.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">8- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For questions email: <a href="mailto:Native_Writer@Yahoo.com"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Native_Writer@Yahoo.com</span></span></a> , write in the title: Your Name – Women’s Domination – Questions.</span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Judging:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The winning stories will be chosen on the degree of creativity and the novelty of the idea. Strange and unusual ideas are strongly recommended.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The depth of the text, characters, places, scene… etc.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">3- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The metaphors and similes used.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">4- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The beauty of the writing style and dialogs if there are any.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">5- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The ending of the story and how powerful it is.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">6- </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There will be no judging on grammar because it will be unjust since there are those who have English as a first language and those who have it as a second language. We will do the editing if needed for you, but try to introduce your piece as decent as possible.</span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Conclusion:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Notice that this book will be a cocktail of different ideas. It is more of using the suitable ratios of stories rather than it is a competition. There might be outstanding stories that might not find a place in the book. But, we will try our best to make all the good stories fit, even if it will be possible to make two separate books. So, just write and know that this competition is not measuring your level, but consider it as a workshop and a chance to do something different, challenge yourself and get to know new intellectual people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Your Native Writer & Loyal Reader,</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong>Mahmoud Mansi</strong></span></i></div>
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إكتب قصة تبدأ بسيطرة المرأة علي الرجل، فد تكون هذه السيطرة سياسية، عاطفية، مالية، اقتصادية، جنسية أو سيطرة عملية.</div>
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فالكاتب حر تماما في إختيار أي شكل من أشكال سيطرة المرأة علي الرجل، سواء كانت إيجابية أو سلبية، فقد يساعدنا ذلك في كتابة التحليل الادبي للقصة و اكتشاف كيفية تقدير الشخص لقدرات الجنس الأخر وهل يفسر تلك السيطرة علي أنها خطر أو حماية،</div>
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نحن نؤمن بقوة أن الكثير من النظريات النفسية الخاصة بالمساواة بين الرجل والمرأة، لم تُطرح أو تُكتب بعد، لذا نتنبأ بأن يقدم كُتابنا النواة الأفضل القادرة علي إمداد و إئراء هذا العالم بنظريات خلآقة قادرة علي تحسين و تطوير العلاقات الإجتماعية.</div>
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يفضل ان تبدأ كل القصص بفكرة السيطرة، فعلي الرغم من إعتقاد البعض أن ذلك الشرط يُقيد أو يُحجم المساحة الإبداعية، إلا أننا نؤمن أن الإبداع الحقيقي قادر علي التعبير عن نفسه ولا يعيقه تحديد بدايته أو نهايته، فعند إجراء أي إختبار لمتغيرات متنوعة، يجب وضع تلك المتغيرات تحت ظروف موحدة ، ومراقبة أدائاتهم و ردود أفاعلهم المختلفة للخروج بنتائج أكثر دقة،.</div>
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الإراشادات العامة للمسابقة:-</div>
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1- الحد الأقصي لعدد الكلمات 3000 و الحد الادني 500.</div>
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2- يجب أن يكون الكاتب أو الكاتبة هو الراوي الأساسي للقصة، لأننا من خلال القصة نستنتج التحليل النفسي للكاتب و نظرته "لحرية المرأة".</div>
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3- وضع عنوان للقصة,</div>
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4- يمكنك إستخدام بعض الأشكال التوضيحية أو الصور أو لوحات مرسومة إذا كنت رسام.</div>
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5- من الممكن أن تتضمن القصة نصوص شعرية من تأليف الكاتب/ الكاتبة.</div>
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6- غير مسموح بأي إقتباس من كُتاب أخرين.</div>
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7- لك الحرية في إختيار النوع الأدبي للقصة سواء رعب، خيال، سياسي، رومانسي، أو أي نوع أخر.</div>
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8- لك حرية إختيار الأسلوب الأدبي المفضل لديك.</div>
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9- نسليم القصص يبدأ من 8 مارس 2012 وهو اليوم العالمي للمرأة ، حتي يوم 28 فبراير 2013.</div>
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تفاصيل التقديم:</div>
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1-يكتب في ملف wordعنوان القصة و إسم الكاتب.</div>
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2-يجب أن تتضمن رسالة الإيميل " محل إقامتك، والمذهب السياسي الذي تؤمن به، و معتقداتك الدينية"، حيث أن هذه التفاصيل مُجديه في تحليل نظرة الكاتب لدور المرأة وهل هذه النظره فطرية أم ناتجه عن عوامل اجتماعية او بيئية أو ثقافية.</div>
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3- يمكنك إرسال أعمالك الأدبية علي Native_Writer@Yahoo.com</div>
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يُكتب في الرسالة ( إسم الكاتب -"سيطرة المرأة"- تقديم).</div>
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4- لمزيد من المعلومات يمكنك التواصل علي إميل: Native_Writer@Yahoo.com</div>
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ويُكتب في الرسالة: (إسم الكاتب- "سيطرة المرأة"-إستفسار).</div>
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التحكيم:</div>
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تحدد القصص الفائزه وفقا لـ :</div>
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1- مدي الإبداع في الكتابة والحدائة في الافكار.</div>
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2- مدي عمق النص، والمشاهد، والأماكن و الشخصيات.</div>
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3- التشبيهات و الاستعارات المستخدمة.</div>
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4- جماليات اللغة والحوار إن وُجد.</div>
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5- نهاية القصة و مدي قوتها.</div>
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<em><strong><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Pictures Taken By: Mostapha Halim / Model: Amel Mostapha</span></strong></em></div>
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Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-69370398561221043752011-12-14T05:07:00.000-08:002011-12-15T03:10:39.916-08:00مئوية نجيب محفوظ بالأسكندرية / محمود منسي<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; unicode-bidi: embed;"><b><u><span lang="AR-SA" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">مئوية نجيب محفوظ</span></u></b><b><u><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; unicode-bidi: embed;"><b><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">مركز الجزويت بالأسكندرية</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; unicode-bidi: embed;"><b><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">12/12/2011</span></b><b><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">فى ظل تاريخ الكون، يصبح تاريخ الإنسان على هذا الكوكب ضئيلاً جدًا، و لكن ينجح ذلك الإنسان بقدره أن يعيش، بل و البعض قد نجحوا فى تحقيق ما هو أكثر من ذلك. فبالرغم من خبرة الإنسان الفقيرة على هذا الكوكب فقد نجد بعض المتنبئين الذين نجحوا فى قراءة بعض من حروف المستقبل. فالكاتب المصرى نجيب محفوظ قد حدثنا عن تلك الحروف التى قد شكلت قدرنا الآن. و قد تبين لنا من تأمل ملحمة الحرافيش معرفة مراحل تطور التاريخ المصرى، فما عاشور الناجى و كفاحه الذى ظل شبه أسطورة إلا رمز من رموز عظمة التاريخ التى لا نستطيع أن ندركها، مثله كمثل عظمة الفراعنة. فعلى مدار القصة مازال أهل الحارة يتفاخرون بالماضى و لكن لا يفعلون شئ فى حاضرهم. كل ملحمة ترجمت عصر من عصورنا و صورت تفكير أبطال تلك العصور و مدى تغيرها و تطورها و تأخرها! و لكن نجح نجيب محفوظ فى تخليد عمله و كلامه فى آخر ملحمة عندما تنبأ بالثورة. ففى عالم "الفتوات" كان الحكم يتلاعب بين الناس لمن يمتلك قوة إنتزاعه، إلا فى ثورة الحرافيش التى أُسست من قلوب الناس و ليس من سواعدهم. و لكن قد أخطأ كاتبنا المصرى الصواب فى شئ، ففى ثورته كان الحرافيش يد واحدة و ليس بها أحزاب سياسية أو تفرقه عنصرية.. ربما كان ليحزن كاتبنا إذا كان ما يزال ينعم بالحياة أو ربما نحن لم نكن مثل الحرافيش فى يوم قط! ربما نحن مثل "الفتوات" نتعارك و نتبارز و نتلاعب للحصول على السلطة من أيدى مصر، و نشوه اللوحة الجميلة التى كانت تعبر فى يوم من الأيام عن الإتحاد و الحرية. فربما الثورة التى تحدث عنها نجيب محفوظ مازالت فى علم الغيب، و ما تلك الثورة التى نحن نغامر فيها بأرواحنا إلا الملحمة الثالثة أو الرابعة فى كتاب الحياة، و فى كتاب مصر!</span><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">و لكن يبقى شئ غامض يغمر القارئ على دوام عصور القصة، و هو ذكر سيرة الدراويش فى كل ملحمة، و فى كل عصر، و تلحين ذكرهم الذى يتلى على أهل الحارة.. فما الدراويش إلا الملأ الأعلى و الملائكة الذين ظلوا يرسلون البركة على أهل الحارة. أو ربما الدراويش فى القصة هم الصوفيين أهل العلم الذين قد زهدوا السياسة و الناس و بدأوا يتواصلوا مع مخلوقات أخرى فى التكية و يتفكرون فى سياسة الكون. و كان ظهورهم لأهل الحارة لسبيل الهدى و لكن كل ما كان يسمع منهم هو تلاوات غير مفهومه و لكنها جميلة، ففى الحقيقة كانوا يتحدثون بلغة الإنسان و حروفه و لكن بمنطق الإله، فكان الناس لا يفقهون حكمتهم فيسمعونها و كأنها لغة أخرى. ففى آخر ملحمة عندما فشلوا الدراويش فى التواصل مع أهل الحارة بالكلام، فتواصلوا بثمار التوت.. و لا يزال الدراويش يطوفون من ملحمة إلى أخرى، و من كتاب إلى كتاب، بل من عالم إلى آخر، ففى طوافهم الدائم حكمة لأنهم على يقين أنهم لن يروا الله و لن يدركوا الملكوت إلا من الطواف و النظر فى كل الإتجاهات فى نفس الوقت. فبحكمتهم يزهدون الدنيا و يمتلكون الملكوت.. و يصبحون جزء من بلاط الملك الأعلى!</span><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">فى كتاب آخر و هو "أمام العرش" ذكر نجيب محفوظ محاكمة ملوك و رؤساء مصر من بداية مينا موحد القطرين و حتى عصر الناصرية فى محكمة الحياة الأخرى الفرعونية. ففى هذا الكتاب التاريخى نجد سرد أحداث تاريخنا، بكل أخطائه و مزاياة، و لكن يظل الكتاب ناقصًا حتى أكمل القدر آخر فصل منه و جعل رئيسنا المخلوع حسنى مبارك وراء قضبان المحكمة، و هنا الروعة لأن مبارك هو الوحيد الذى لم يذكره الكتاب و هو الفرعون الوحيد فى تاريخ مصر الذى حاكمه شعبه! ربما كاتبنا قد كتب هذا الكتاب لتحذير الرئيس السابق و قد جعل فى نهاية الكتاب مشهد لكل فرعون راحل يطلق نصيحة مخلدة للمصريين و لحكامها، فربما هذا الكتاب كان مجرد نصيحة أخوية من حاكم الأدب إلى حاكم الدولة!</span><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">فى النهاية نجح نجيب محفوظ بعلمه أن يؤكد لنا أن بعض الكتب الكلاسيكية مازالت حية و عصرية، و لكن قد نسينا و ها نحن نتذكر مرة أخرى، فالدراويش مازالوا يطوفون، و يدعون، و يبتهلون.. و مازال الكاتب المصرى يجلس القرفصاء على مر الفصول و العصور، لا يهزه تقلب الطقس و القلوب، و هو دومًا عاكفًا فى خشوع، يؤرخ ما يحدث من آيات و عبر بقلمه الفلسفى الحاد الذى يذبح الأوراق ذبحًا و يقدمها أضحية للبشرية و لخالقها..</span><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">بقلم: محمود حسن منسي</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">روائى / مصور / صحفى</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">موظف بالأكاديمية العربية للعلوم و التكنولوجيا و النقل البحرى</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="direction: rtl; line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span lang="AR-EG" style="font-family: "Simplified Arabic"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-EG; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div></div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-83195414371729911782011-12-09T01:44:00.000-08:002012-01-18T04:32:23.701-08:00Short Story Competition / Resurrection of Ancient Egypt / The Forgotten Writers Foundation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9A243ZcLZe5uhD-PXJhH_DGQCCcpq2C6DO7kB4UkCYBcT6QabN8jYjKvknlzI0imzMmvTW9nTefD4jq1QwRMDjhJg3h0l8CwOdaHQRh3LuPq657SyAhM8BIFYJaW8Je7E1GpQ7uoMNk/s1600/The_Forgotten_Writers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9A243ZcLZe5uhD-PXJhH_DGQCCcpq2C6DO7kB4UkCYBcT6QabN8jYjKvknlzI0imzMmvTW9nTefD4jq1QwRMDjhJg3h0l8CwOdaHQRh3LuPq657SyAhM8BIFYJaW8Je7E1GpQ7uoMNk/s320/The_Forgotten_Writers.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>“The Forgotten Writers” foundation was created after the Egyptian revolution with a clear Mission Statement to reveal the depth of Egyptian Literature to the rest of the world. This would be done by writing about cultural and social topics that are original and novel. The first project this foundation offered was a book of short stories about the revolution by 12 Egyptian residents.<br />
<br />
This is the first competition offered by “The Forgotten Writers”. The theme is about stories inspired by the era of Ancient Egypt. The characters and events could be fictional or real. The suitable stories will be collected in one book to be published, and this will be the first contemporary literary book written about Ancient Egypt.<br />
<br />
People from different nationalities cross the world for seeing the ancient monuments of the Pharaohs. They study their theories, their language and their traditions, but we forgot that these people were very artistic, and art was created for us to contemplate it and assume stories out of it. We want to make out of the Ancient Egyptians not only gods of science, but muses too that will still inspire us until this very moment. By speculating their lives and mysteries we will be able to open a new gate that will connect us to their wonders, a gate between our troubled present and their mystic past.<br />
<br />
I do not personally believe in setting rules in writing and guidelines. A writer is a mini-creator who has the absolute freedom in writing whatever, and however.<br />
<br />
<span class="fbUnderline"><u>Eligibility and Competition Guidelines:</u></span><br />
<br />
1- The competition is open to Egyptians and Non-Egyptians.<br />
2- Any age group and gender.<br />
3- Fluent English.<br />
4- Originally written in English and not translated through another party.<br />
5- Unpublished work.<br />
6- Maximum 10,000 words.<br />
7- It is possible to use illustrations as figures, pictures and drawings if you are a painter.<br />
8- It is possible to include poetry within your story.<br />
9- It is NOT possible to use quotes from other writers.<br />
10- You are free to choose any genre of horror, fantasy, politics, romance, or any other one.<br />
11- You are free to use any kind of style and narration.<br />
12- All stories are sent via email.<br />
13- Word Document: Font must be Times New Roman, 12, Margins Justified and pages numbered.<br />
14- There must be a title for the story, centered in the middle of the page, bold, and size 12.<br />
15- Do not mention your name in the word document.<br />
16- Save the word file with your Name and Title on it.<br />
17- Numbers must be written in (words) except if it was a date-year / ex: 1996 – Seven years old.<br />
18- Write using American English (spelling and vocabulary).<br />
19- Do not use (&) instead of (And).<br />
20- The deadline date is the same as the revolution / 25 – Jan – 2012 .<br />
21- Email your stories to: Native_Writer@Yahoo.com<br />
<br />
<span class="fbUnderline"><u>Judging:</u></span><br />
<br />
1- The winning stories will be chosen on their creativity and the novelty of the idea. Strange and unusual ideas are needed.<br />
2- The depth of the text, characters, places… etc.<br />
3- The metaphors and similes used.<br />
4- The beauty of the writing style and dialogs if there are any.<br />
5- The ending of the story and how powerful it is.<br />
6- There will be no judging on grammar because it will be unjust since there are those who have English as a first language and those who have it as a second language. We will do the editing if needed for you, but try to introduce your piece as decent as possible.<br />
<br />
Notice that this book will be a cocktail of different ideas. It is more of using the suitable ratios of stories rather than it is a competition. There might be outstanding stories that might not find a place in the book. But, we will try our best to make all the good stories fit, even if it will be possible to make two separate books. So, just write and know that his competition is not measuring your level, but consider it as a workshop and a chance to do something different, challenge yourself and get to know new intellectual people.<br />
Writers are free to take my opinion in the ideas before they start writing. I am here to assist and support anyone, and honored to. Just email me on Native_writer@yahoo.com or call me on (002) 0100 92 818 08.<br />
<br />
<br />
You may spread and share, we are thankful for your help :)<br />
<br />
Yours,<br />
<br />
<strong><em>Mahmoud Mansi</em></strong><br />
<br />
Writer <em>Heidi Lessmann</em> says: "Its wanting to write about my own intepretation of ancient Egypt, how I see it with my eyes, how I feel it with my soul. A part of "unknown" history that may have existed or not,... who knows...? There is no one from the past alive today to tell us that..but maybe a ghost from the past....? This is is a great challenge for all us writers. Facts one knows already can be boring, now we present something that man maybe has never read before....bringing it to life.Maybe touched with Egyptian dust from hundreds of years ago..."<br />
<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">**************************************************************</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Identity Magazine - Cairo / December 2011 Issue</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEm2bgTw0B7COEBukUJFGaOShpNDqKDOqIEekmMPT88JoQCfK1QsjUj6nVoJ6TEjYQfu8F6EmbFZbDsUNMYMGlWlj_N1K4gjfBxyY_ng7PAL5YhbHjPD4C2TvR-zuy63cN7xr7BKdkoM/s1600/identity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEm2bgTw0B7COEBukUJFGaOShpNDqKDOqIEekmMPT88JoQCfK1QsjUj6nVoJ6TEjYQfu8F6EmbFZbDsUNMYMGlWlj_N1K4gjfBxyY_ng7PAL5YhbHjPD4C2TvR-zuy63cN7xr7BKdkoM/s320/identity.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">**************************************************************</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">UGO Magazine - Alexandria / January 2012 Issue</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJnrjlWh6IF8mvgAca6_NDBQr7DUTjlIUl71R6bZjw4vfPmKwcy46CjFuicoKSsTHhjGg03jX9nQA96PlL3BZl-qIIyzEAdI2eCSS9Fqe_GFMnpS6pKxsHNBlrEN2TG9WULM5AZd4Y_M/s1600/ugo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJnrjlWh6IF8mvgAca6_NDBQr7DUTjlIUl71R6bZjw4vfPmKwcy46CjFuicoKSsTHhjGg03jX9nQA96PlL3BZl-qIIyzEAdI2eCSS9Fqe_GFMnpS6pKxsHNBlrEN2TG9WULM5AZd4Y_M/s320/ugo.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">**************************************************************</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ovi Magazine - Finland / December 2011 Issue</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDRDHSC2rl_aJRGlHAhzxqcted6gYbK6nnK1XBi7cEMGhbRqdcmLBCzZPidcsP3CM5vA86BgCv7pEDn8wvvv6_MVdDLu4m40toIBifQz1K-_U3WWUPdZ3wgvFU62TtjyCwvjzlXXQJ9w/s1600/article.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDRDHSC2rl_aJRGlHAhzxqcted6gYbK6nnK1XBi7cEMGhbRqdcmLBCzZPidcsP3CM5vA86BgCv7pEDn8wvvv6_MVdDLu4m40toIBifQz1K-_U3WWUPdZ3wgvFU62TtjyCwvjzlXXQJ9w/s320/article.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">**************************************************************</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">International Magazine - Egypt & London / January 2012 Issue</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div></div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-83561745236474953172011-11-26T04:06:00.000-08:002011-11-26T04:06:31.846-08:00Moses in Tahrir<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><strong>Moses in Tahrir,</strong><br />
<em>Comparison Study between the Revolution of Moses and the Current Egyptian Revolution</em><br />
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As I walked through the everyday struggle, something happened and stopped me, a very deep voice which made me leave all the articles and analysis I was working on. This voice conquered my mind, and this is one of the very rare cases that one feels joyfulness for being conquered! As the Egyptian revolution interrupted and overwhelmed the world of politics, international trade, micro economy, human capabilities and left based on the opinion of people, either its divine fingerprints or marked its fathomless scars on the walls of the Earth and the hearts of humankind, it managed to also pierce my mind and create a tunnel between the present and the past, between the current Egyptian revolution and the ancient Egyptian one.<br />
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As I watched, listened and spoke with people who carried contradicting opinions about the revolution and about the current circumstances of piracy, I managed to try and create some sort of peace connection, but apparently a peacemaker in a war zone is considered the most wanted enemy, he is considered the taker of their satisfaction, unlike the demons who enhance flames then count who did ignite the most. In this case I, the son of Adam was confronting Satan, trying to wake people up from this new kind of lust he is planting in our lands, and watering the seeds with a fluid that is not from the divine Nile. I sure became his enemy by now, denying his powers, confronting his respectable flames with my sharp words. At this point, when I found some people provoked from me because I speak peace, yet all this inspired me, and opened the gate to the past when Moses spoke to me through the words of the Holy Quran, and thus I left everything I was doing, and immediately couldn’t resist writing this article.<br />
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Egypt has always been a debate and a land that carried many troubles although in the end it is a very peaceful country. In the time of Moses, there was a very cruel Pharaoh, the cruelest of all. Moses’s revolution against the system of the Pharaoh should be studied from different angles, apart from the mystifying personality of Moses who managed with his patience and wisdom to become a miracle himself.<br />
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One day when Moses was walking, he saw one of his companions of the same sect who were suppressed by the Pharaoh, who was one of the revolutionaries, fighting with one of the Pharaoh’s soldiers. When he saw Moses, and he was known by his supernatural masculinity, he called for his help, and as a gallant brother Moses went to push the enemy away, and so with his superb strength the soldier died. The first thing Moses did was ask for forgiveness and confess that he was tricked by Satan. Afterwards, Moses said, (“My Lord, for the favor You bestowed upon me, I will never be an assistant to the criminals.”) Chapter 28, The Stories, Verse 7. And he tried to be invisible from trouble in order to avoid killing or harming someone else. The next day Moses walked in silence in the city to find the same revolutionary man fighting with another soldier. Moses blamed his companion for the piracy he caused, and yet went to defend him until God spoke to Moses for the first time, but through the tongue of his enemy, and said, (“O Moses, do you want to kill me as you slew a soul the other day? Do you want to become a tyrant in the land, not a reformer?”) Chapter 28, The Stories, Verse 19. And this was the time when Moses departed from the country because the Pharaoh wanted his head.<br />
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As I thought about this, and comparing it to the current circumstances of which people want to battle with one another for revenge, ego or freedom, and soldiers are fighting back for social security, justice or lack of control, I was overwhelmed by the wisdom of Moses, and the way he thought about things. Egypt now is in deep suppression, and the people are doing the right thing, fighting for what they believe in, dying for the sake of their country and notions, but after reading these few verses from the Book of Wisdom, I found out the everyone does what they think is right, even the pirates. Perhaps everyone is right when it comes to facing a crisis, but now I am sure that there are degrees for rightfulness, same as there are degrees for heaven. Moses started his journey as a loyal brother and a clever slayer, but he climbed those steps of wisdom, and rose to a level of extreme ambition. When he tasted what the angry revolutionary had, he knew that he was much better than being a killer; same as the enemy.<br />
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Another vital element that I must highlight, when Moses spoke to the enemy (soldier), he found out that his words were not ones of an evil man at all, he was only one of the Pharaoh’s soldiers, perhaps a victim too and was attacked as a result of stereotyping. That is why it is very important to consider what is beyond the scene we see, beyond the uniforms, beyond our good intentions, and there we will find the godly light that will inspire us with the answers.<br />
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Moses had the strength of ten men, yet he never killed another man in his entire life. He always had the chance to kill the Pharaoh, but he did not. He sure did his plan in a very distinctive way. Moses left the country, and headed towards Palestine where he got married and lived for nearly ten years. He was the key that God preserved for the right time. Through all those years, Moses managed to never forget his mission, and with his determination he abandoned the healthy life he had had in order to face the Pharaoh and bring success to the revolution.<br />
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As a leader, Moses returned to confront the Pharaoh alone, along with the company of his brother Harun. He did not get any of his people with him, although they would have followed him. He did not want to make war, he did not want to waste time fighting the soldiers, and ruining everything. He chose the philosophy of walking towards the source of fire… (“Stay here; indeed, I have perceived a fire; perhaps I can bring you a torch or find at the fire some guidance.”) Chapter 20, Taha, Verse 10.<br />
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God commanded Moses to go - along with his brother - to the Pharaoh and speak calmly to guide him. The main concern of Moses was not the suppression they lived in, but it was for the sake of the Pharaoh too, to guide him to the right path. His request was not to become the king of Egypt or even to let the Pharaoh abandon his throne. His request was to just leave with his people safely, leaving behind a piece of advice for the Pharaoh that might make him a better person sometime in the future. Can you see the difference between the two revolutions? Moses used all kinds of logic to convince the Pharaoh, but he was very arrogant. Yet, Moses did not fight the Pharaoh in the name of freedom, but he treated him with mercy in the name of God. Moses was a true Sufi, no wonder Egypt has a very deep spiritual sort of power…<br />
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None of the followers of Moses killed any of the soldiers of the Pharaoh after Moses started his revolution, on the contrary they were only escaping from their attacks. The only ones who got killed within the revolution were the Pharaoh’s sorcerers who were executed because they believed in the message of the prophet. They were martyrs indeed, and their lives were sacrificed for the sake of their message, and to my surprise they accepted it with their wisdom too and with no violence as they said to the Pharaoh, (“We prefer you not over the clear signs that have come to us, and to Him (Allah) Who created us. So decree whatever you desire to decree, for you can only decree (regarding) this life of the world...”) Chapter 20, Taha, Verse 72.<br />
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Moses had the power of angels, miracles, people and his own physical power, yet he left the death of the Pharaoh and his soldiers a choice made by God, until the Red Sea swallowed them all.<br />
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Another enigmatic fact which occurred, and is also contradicting lots of the opinions of Egyptians, is that Moses was raised in the palace of the Pharaoh, and Moses before he became the leader of his people lived out of the country for ten years. This is a lesson contemporary Egyptians should learn, the leader should be elected on who he is and what good would he bring, even if he was unwillingly a part of the old system, and even if he spent the last dozen of his years outside the country! And even if he was a killer, like Moses was when he first departed Egypt and escaped from the Pharaoh!<br />
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An Australian writer and a friend of mine, who is a resident in Cairo, highlighted something very important as I was speaking about Moses. She said that his peaceful revolution took him dozens of years perhaps, well this is true, but it was the nature of that age that everything took years in order to shape, due to the lack of communication, transportation, and technology. However, though Moses still played it slowly but surely, yet in the end his people and his coming generation conquered the world and were kings, this was when prophets David and Solomon ruled. And this all happened without a single murder.<br />
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Overall the main concern for Moses within his revolution was the safety of everyone and the guidance of those who damaged the country. He was advising the ruler of the country although he had no intention to even stay in it! That is why his revolution turned into a message, and messages do not fade away with time, they are left to us, to learn from, to study and to put them in comparison with our current world and attitude. We owe our thanks to God who bestowed upon us His Holy Books, not only to read the stories of those whom we miss and wish to meet, and feel a pinch of spiritual and nostalgic sentiments, but to repeat those beautiful stories and not deprive history from witnessing them. And in the end, the Stick of Moses defeated the Sword of the Pharaoh…<br />
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Now we are all sons of Moses, and we have no superb prophet among us to reach and talk to the current ruler. That is why now I believe that the only solution to speak to the ruler is to protest, peacefully, and if any harm was to be done, then we should try to avoid it, and then resolve later, in order not to harm our brothers or our enemies, same as Moses did. Egyptians have several miracles too, of which they use in their demonstrations. The meaning or purpose of protesting is advising the other side, more than attacking them, it is to deliver our intentions and words to those who have authority and responsibility. Protesting can be done through walking in a demonstration, publishing an article, documenting a movie, speaking in the media or being interviewed, these are all different ways for delivering the message to the other side, and same as the anonymous people that are exposed to danger in the demonstrations, the public figures are exposed to the danger of being found in their own homes. All Egyptians equally share the effort and threats as long as they are participating in some way or another.<br />
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As for the officers, they must do like the wise soldier of the Pharaoh, and remind the unstable revolutionaries that they must not fight one another, for officers have the right to protest and speak up too! And the officers who were ordered by their superiors to kill the innocent people protesting in front of them should always remember and imagine when the brave Moses stood among the followers of the Pharaoh, including the sorcerers, who were his most powerful soldiers, defending his beliefs against the snakes (bombs) they threw and warned them: (Then, when they had cast, Moses said, “What you have brought is sorcery; God will assuredly bring it to naught. God sets not right the work of those who do corruption.”) Chapter 10, Jonah, Verse 81.<br />
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And as our political and spiritual master Moses taught us to be patient, and by being patient is remaining on the right track: (Said Moses to his people, “Pray for succor to God, and be patient; surely the earth is God’s and He bequeaths it to whom He will among His servants. The issue ultimate is to the god-fearing.”) Chapter 7, The Heights, Verse 28.<br />
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Our Revolution is not only watched by the entire world, but by the ones living in the heavens above too. God gave us the power to control the circumstances as much as we can. God believed in us, as when He first created us the angels asked Him about the reason He created human beings that would kill one another and cause destruction to the environment, yet God almighty believed that there will be few of us who will do otherwise. God believed in humanity although lots of us still do not believe in Him or implementing the wisdom of His Book.<br />
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We are all one now, asked to do the best for this country, with our unity and understanding, we will do the right thing. We should always work for our strength, but always allow our wisdom to be the one in control.<br />
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As a conclusion, what should we do with our Revolution, how to play it right? After this article, every reader will be able to rethink everything, and everyone will be able to come up with a different philosophy, and everyone now knows that there are levels for rightfulness, we just have to do our best to rise and help others rise too, and never fight with one another, nor apply stereotyping. We should let our Father Moses proud of us, and we should give ourselves the honor to inherit his wisdom, and revive it in the memory of his name, and the name of Egypt, and the undying name of Allah.<br />
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<strong> The Native Writer,</strong><br />
<strong><em> Mahmoud Mansi</em></strong><br />
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<strong><span class="fbUnderline"><u>Authors’ Note:</u></span></strong><br />
I know some people might hate me because of this article. I know my readers might lose interest in me for speaking a different philosophy, but this was an inspiration from God, and I was the one chosen to see it this way, and it is my duty to reveal this message.<br />
Sometimes a writer is not a creator, but the Pen of God.<br />
<strong><span class="fbUnderline"><u>Dedication:</u></span></strong><br />
To Prophet Moses, To Egypt, To those who seek Wisdom all over the world.<br />
<strong><span class="fbUnderline"><u>Acknowledgement:</u></span></strong><br />
<span class="fbUnderline">To Writer, Architect and Artist Mostapha Halim, for taking the picture and for writing the title.<br />
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</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiz_mEw-YIqZP1K6S3SpDV3XDLm3RQHp2ei8-e6ZDDocrCYDe8jDL0_TEnzAuC1b073CtM6n3AuuUlX6q9xF0LpNyFI17yMtnXS3cFmQ4C7bVXywRHu3jOGtKVuI46YFc5pIukaYshFg/s1600/moses_in_tahrir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiz_mEw-YIqZP1K6S3SpDV3XDLm3RQHp2ei8-e6ZDDocrCYDe8jDL0_TEnzAuC1b073CtM6n3AuuUlX6q9xF0LpNyFI17yMtnXS3cFmQ4C7bVXywRHu3jOGtKVuI46YFc5pIukaYshFg/s320/moses_in_tahrir.jpg" width="239" /></a></div></div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-11583884330645140402011-11-15T14:19:00.000-08:002011-11-15T14:19:57.700-08:00An Egyptian Woman Being a President, (Cleopatra's Throne) / Identity Magazine, October 2011 / Mahmoud Mansi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><strong>Cleopatra’s Throne,</strong><br />
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"The Purpose of this article is not to vote for a woman in the next period, but it is to know what She is capable of."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQxw1OQgmkw4KldVMCLSUGRh6SSEb-gJ2h235kshses-MD668OFVuk8HPxgiAY8jQZE5PxAX-SUGgXhwBqi8Qc8J4-YgKXeKn-xCHfow4_p5Lyew4kYMt3P81f8q5q9jRZMUy_tHT4qE/s1600/298360_10150352239217147_511362146_8159342_758469060_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQxw1OQgmkw4KldVMCLSUGRh6SSEb-gJ2h235kshses-MD668OFVuk8HPxgiAY8jQZE5PxAX-SUGgXhwBqi8Qc8J4-YgKXeKn-xCHfow4_p5Lyew4kYMt3P81f8q5q9jRZMUy_tHT4qE/s320/298360_10150352239217147_511362146_8159342_758469060_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I am not going to look at other countries right now and compare. I will not speak about a far reality and give examples from countries that have been economically stable for decades and applying democracy since our birth. No, instead I will speak about facts that we see every day, facts that some of us are even lucky to have, share, or even hear about them.<br />
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We have seen in our country successful women who became entrepreneurs, leaders, bank managers, and even great followers. We need not to speak about myths when facts are speaking louder. So is it possible that an Egyptian woman can sit on Egypt’s throne, to witness a second Cleopatra? Is it possible that History will actually <em>decide</em> to repeat itself?<br />
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Women have always been a riddle, not only to man, but to logic, philosophy and art, and sometimes in the spiritual books too, to an extent that in the hardest of times or best of ones, some look into their reflection of the mirror and find themselves as fathomless riddles.<br />
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We are lucky indeed to have books all over the time periods of humanity that reveal to us a lot about the environment and psychology of our ancestors. Women in such ancient eras were a great source of inspirational flames to all artists, warriors and philosophers. In one way or another, they did share the thoughts of every man-creator, until we were born and new books were written, new facts were earthed, and we found our sisters, daughters and mothers are not limited as a source of inspiration and shelter, but they got inspired and became creators too, they conquered different fields of life and fed them with their own ambition.<br />
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Why has God created more women than men? Difficult to find an accurate answer, yet not impossible to observe and admit the facts around. We stare at insects and some animals, and wonder why they were created, and so we conclude that they only were just to balance the environment and ecosystem. We cannot stare down at one another wondering if we were created for the same reason, for only breathing, eating and breeding.<br />
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If one does not believe in the role of a woman in changing her current society then one does not believe in the majority of the society. In a smart business model the manager does not rely on the short or long objectives while putting the other aside, they work on what they can give best, and on what the environment needs. Mothers’ number one goal is to take best care of their children, and this is how they create the change in the society, but that is on the long-run. Clever ones do balance between the short-run and long-run changes.<br />
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Even in the ancient days, in Egypt’s history the role of a woman has been proven several times and has been reinforced by some of the celestial books. Shagarat El-Dor is one of the examples who proved the theory of feminism in serving a throne. The Holy Quran highlighted in a theme in “Sorat Yusuf” verse 28 - the power of a woman’s intelligence and praised her mind, though lots of people took it as an offensive way.<br />
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Man and Woman are different in nature, with a few things in common such as ethics, culture, philosophy and emotions. Feelings and thoughts may differ, priorities and the routine differ too. The mechanism of both minds and the way they analyze and function are distinctive, thus each has specific roles that can be managed best.<br />
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In nature through ages a woman always sought perfection, even within the internal problems of her home, including the financing, the cleanness of her own beauty and place, the emotional and mental protection of her husband, and of course, the education and morals of her children, and even some of them participate in the external environment too, and assist their husbands through their own careers, and through sharing their opinions. The husband on the other hand deals more with the external environment; how to get the suitable amount of money, which schools the children would join, moving to a new place or staying in the same house, and in the end of the day he gets a report from his wife about his home and helps her in dealing with the problem.<br />
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Of course such variables differ from one person to the other, but we are only analyzing the core of each genre according to the nature we used to live over thousands of years and between the nature we live now, and extracting metaphors that would lead us to political facts.<br />
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Now if this woman was alone and had some assets that she annually rents or an acceptable bank account that brings her a fine amount of fixed money, and her home is facing internal problems, what would she prefer best; healing her internal environment or ignoring it and seeking more income? This is not meant to be a leading question… it is only shaped in a logical way. The same goes with Egypt, it has its fixed income from the Suez Canal and tourism, it is politically stable with the other countries, its army is well trained and powerful, but ciaos lies within its thick walls. It lies on the land that used to be blessed until we chose otherwise. It lies within our daily conversations and exchanged feelings. It lies within the words of wisdom we chose not to ever speak. And who owns the keys to every lock in the house, and protects the secrets behind each door except for a wise woman. And who denies that our home has been dark, gloomy and dirty for decades, that our hearts were deprived from the art of passion, our eyes were deprived from the greenness of Mother Nature, and our bodies were deprived from the beautiful pride of a sane woman?<br />
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Egypt does not need a husband to lavish her with his treasures of gold and diamonds right now, or a stepfather to put her on his lap and fool her with some games and toys. Egypt needs a kind mother to embrace her within her serene arms, tell her the bedtime stories of knights who served humanity a long time ago, feed her well, plant the native seed of faith and unity in her heart, and to educate her very well. Egypt needs a mother first to let her stand strong on her feet, with a distinctive and smart personality, with a mind that knows how to differentiate between a good decision and a better one, then her life would finally start and she can get engaged and exposed freely with no fear at all, because a good mother is never forgotten and a good child never forgets her parents’ words.<br />
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There are some things in Egypt that require a feminine mind with a feminine touch. Egypt needs a female president, at least for one presidential period to implement the lucrative changes that have never been done in our country before.<br />
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If she decides playing it with the rules of man, nothing at all might change, except for us being called a very democratic Arab country and praised from the rest of the world, only in their newspapers and media channels. However, if she decides playing it her way while listening and consulting some of the logical rules of man, miracles might finally occur. The point is to break the political routine, use different plans, and have different goals, to refresh our political cycle and create new demands.<br />
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Even if this woman is a feminist, this means she will take direct care of over 75% of the Egyptian population, which are of course women, thus the remained 25% will be indirectly taken care of through the satisfied women. On the contrary, I think when the rights of a human being are fulfilled, this person will be able to give more, whether to the self, to other people, or to the environment.<br />
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Of course some of you would still fear breaking all the rules all of a sudden and will ask that the next president should be an ex-member of the army, well the good news is that we do have women working as officers in the Ministry of Defense. I guess we were not so bad after all; perhaps the trend is rising, even if with a speed of a turtle.<br />
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From the study of woman’s nature and role from the novels, poetry, drama and history one would know that a woman is better in handling children and being tolerant with them than man, and more passionate about art and romance. Some men might have the same qualities and interests but women do not hesitate in revealing them bravely, this is how she becomes more powerful. I am not stating that a woman is more creative than man or vice versa, but I am confessing that women show more interest in such things, thus they do implement art on their daily lives and on the ones around them, whether this kind of art is romantic, dramatic, or sarcastic.<br />
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A presidential woman would take good care of Egypt’s children, considering their health, education, dreams, morals and most of all the traditions. I am from the people who strongly believe that children do affect their parents in one way or another, not only the other way around. This promises an indirect change for all the parents too, whether in the way their children react with the environment or the way they react with them.<br />
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One of the very vital aspects a presidential woman would care about is highlighting the importance of art, and the evolution of its makers. This will lead to healing the morals that were defaced, humiliated and raped by the Egyptian routine life which made a few extra Pounds worth the lives of others. Art inspires people to feel one another, and mentally interact with the environment.<br />
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The streets would probably be clean again, perhaps for the first time over the past fifty years or something. There might be police officers disguised in normal citizens who are only responsible for fighting the verbal and physical assaults caused to women by men in the streets.<br />
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What would happen to Egypt if our women lived in safety, if our streets were as clean as our homes, if art became a common language we all speak, and if our children grew up within parents who believe and implement such beliefs, within a society that is organized to help you serve such aims?<br />
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If all this was not a myth, I guess the coming male president would have the chance to revive the external skeleton of Egypt while being sure that she has a strong heart now that would be ready to walk, climb and run for fulfilling the journey… the journey to the future that might eventually lead us to the glory of the past, and thus the circle of history would be finally complete.<br />
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<strong><em>The Native Writer..</em></strong><br />
<em>Mahmoud Mansi,</em><br />
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<em>-Author of Novel/Book: “A Journey from Darkness to Light” </em><br />
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<em>-Journalist – Contributor / Alex Med Newsletter – Bibliotheca Alexandrina</em><br />
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<em>-International Literary Award winner of “A Sea of Words” 2010 / Spain - Egypt</em><br />
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<em>-Writer / Identity Magazine & United-Humanity.com / </em><em>Ex-Writer , Beyond & Campus</em><br />
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<em>-Poet / Playwright / Photographer & Critic</em><br />
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<em>-HR Specialist / Arab Academy for Science, Technology and Maritime Transport</em><br />
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<em>-MA Degree, Marketing.</em><br />
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</div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-55524083720840333972011-01-25T05:43:00.000-08:002011-02-06T07:01:53.201-08:00Earth Salvation - Story by (Mahmoud Mansi) - Reviews - Criticism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB98vgUKU-rFDyZTCTxObul8GjTfeGoDc4xewQlDF86mcaPAvKwhNICLfWUKjWofeChbAEpHVY7Zch3dywthk3jWKTx34VKZCNqxcQ8Xx2gtOj-DBP0d9gV2NnUN9QUOQJoHnWCVIBG5g/s1600/Stone+and+Flesh+Pray+to+The+Lord..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB98vgUKU-rFDyZTCTxObul8GjTfeGoDc4xewQlDF86mcaPAvKwhNICLfWUKjWofeChbAEpHVY7Zch3dywthk3jWKTx34VKZCNqxcQ8Xx2gtOj-DBP0d9gV2NnUN9QUOQJoHnWCVIBG5g/s320/Stone+and+Flesh+Pray+to+The+Lord..JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Stone and Flesh Pray to The Lord / © Mahmoud Mansi</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Spain / Barcelona / Sagrada Familia Church / December 2010</div><br />
<strong><span style="color: lime; font-size: 18pt;">Earth Salvation..</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the world of Literature, we as writers sometimes refer to the champion of the story as a “He / She” or as an “I”. This is not done randomly but each has its own reflection into the realm of the story. When we use the “He” tool, it leaves more space for us to delve into the world of descriptions. We will have much space giving details for the internal / external skeleton of the character. However, when we refer to the tool “I” we will cover other internal / external details for the wandering character along with the world around it. Personally, I believe that the story is always missing another half as long as it is based on only one of these tools. It is an exciting thought to write a story twice, using each tool of these, but will the reader urge to read both!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you did not notice so far that I am starting this story by wielding the tool “I”. Yet, this time is an exception because this is a true story that personally happened to me; the writer. I don’t usually narrate my stories directly and announce it because the best part in reading a book is that the reader never knows what can be true and what cannot be! But as I said this simple story is an exception.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">About two years ago, I was waiting for one of my friends in the “Tram” station. He was late as usual, and I was anticipating the tiny universe around me; the street, the people’s faces, the buildings, the sky… I noticed how this tiny area had much several worlds within its invisible walls. We were going to the gym, but he still didn’t show up.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Across the street and the railway, it was the other side of this tiny universe, I found an old woman; a beggar, who walked randomly, alone, not begging! She tottered while looking around, as if searching for something. She accidently found a soda can resting aside. She held it while walking, and shook it but sadly it was empty. For my surprise, she held the can and walked to the garbage, and threw it there!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At first I thought that what I saw was surely from my sheer imagination. Luckily my friend didn’t show up yet, so I drove myself toward the garbage, and looked into it, yes the can was there. This was no fiction, only the unbelievable truth.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I stood there, wondering, and analyzing. As any other writer, I was trying to understand and find a philosophical justification, or else I wouldn’t be able to do my work out well!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Is it education that affects our attitudes? I thought so. Is it our social level? I thought so too. But at that moment I’ve fell into a well of doubts and confusions. It’s when the stable ground you were always standing on, is after all only an ice edge that is about to crack at any time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There were two ways of thinking to walk through that I’ve noticed. The first was that logic and social class had no direct effect in influencing us. But why do we learn and wear the best clothes if we carry no class in such things? Why are we so keen regarding our degrees as long as they will never change what we do? If our struggle toward knowledge and royalty was a myth, then what are we?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The other path I walked in, after I failed piercing into the first one was that this beggar considered this street as her house. Maybe she was homeless and this street was her only shelter so she longed to keep it clean. For sure this explanation soothed me more as it illuminated the first one. But still, my confusion did not flee. If this was her home, then how could we (the educated and elite), be such an intruders and pollute her home-like shelter! I still find myself guilty with each path I choose through my life. My philosophy is failing me with each thought from freeing my spirit from the cross of sin.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thanks to God, I have been inspired to find an unexpected third path that may be a salvation for my spirit, away from the lashes of a whip or the nails of a cross. She was an old “woman”. It’s in women’s nature that they focus more on these things, they have always been the ones protecting the houses from the dust and bacteria, and now that they have got their acknowledged freedom, they are now doing this to the streets too! I liked this theory; it made my spirit float free. It made people seem innocent once again… No! Wait. It only makes the other gender free. Not mine! I am now a criminal against my gender too! In all cases and with any justification, I would have been a criminal to someone…</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I heard my friend calling me. Finally he arrived. Finally he postponed my death for a few more minutes. And now, after two years, I still remember this ignored story, as simple as it is, but I failed to vanquish its secrets. Oh philosophy, you want to crucify me with all means… Accept me now. You deserve to have my death with the greatness of your secrets… Embrace me, for though I’ve always been a sinner who failed to understand, yet never abandoned the eagerness for you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><strong><i>Published with Beyond Magazine / Cairo / June 2010.</i></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><span style="font-size: 18pt;">Reviews by my Readers,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Renee Drummond:</span></u></strong> Salvation : Redemption : Deliverance from Evil!!! Nice story beautiful diversion of life’s ability to manifest guilt... I feel the spirit of this story is one of entangled enlightenment!!! I await the day of your sacred... arrival!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Muhammad Hazem Sherif:</span></u></strong> </span><span data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is a truly intriguing narration, Mahmoud. It certainly is mentally provoking to eye such a scene without a swift understanding of the underlying causation. <br />
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Extensive observation is the prerequisite qualification for any writer, and you<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> certainly do possess it, masha-Allah :).</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Rhoda Ismail:</span></u></strong> Very flattering especially the part where we women are neat =) Thanks.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">In general, I could say that it is true that morals have nothing to do with social standards or education, what makes us middle class people hire uneducated servants to clean our houses then, aint I right?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Rowida Elbahi:</span></u></strong> Like the style... and the analytical thinking. I believe you would know why did she did that if you kept watching her, anyway, after long talks with people and long watching them I am sure of one fact...What you wear or what your class doesn’t reflect your understanding for life, it only gives you tools to do so yet many don't use them.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Alia Taher:</span></u></strong> This is marvelous, Mahmoud! I like the way you delineate the theme of relativity in your story. For, the story expounds the fact that everything in life is relative & that there is always a hidden facet in every person's character which remains concealed and sheltered inside a kernel which only the sensitive & perceptive can crack & delve into. It reveals that every human being is enigmatic to a certain extent & that we should never allow people's appearances to be the measure or scale by which we can understand & fathom who they really are. The fact that you managed to see the bright, civilized nature of the woman which was muffled by her shabby, tattered clothes is similar to that of a surgeon who uses his scalpel to treat his patients. With your perceptive & penetrating eye, you managed to peel off the hidden layers of the old woman's character until you reached the bright core of her being. I also like the metaphor of the street as her home which she is so keen on keeping clean because it was her only shelter. I wish all people would follow in this old woman's footsteps & be as eager as she was to keep the streets clean. A lovely piece of writing indeed, which both instructs & delights!! Perfecto!! Keep up the great work :)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Marlene De Fabrizio:</span></u></strong> The subconscious is the balanced warrior angel and knows what you write physiologically. The conscious has an opportunity to choose compassion in action with an open heart, humbled by nature and with no fear. What is real won't hurt us and ...what is unreal does not exist in the realm of truth. This gift is the grace of Goddess-God. It is the dream come true in a marriage made in heaven and our the purpose of human manifestation, to live in union with the other. Collective--Jungian Akashian human spirit--unconscious, and under analysis our nose is not really our nose...LOL... The answers are in the stars, and we experience what is in the stars within and in the union with each other. Through this union springs forth a karmic life, over and over again, till we are one inexplicable enlightened and eternal blissful energy. We as humans are here to love. As a woman loves, with wisdom, and a man with wisdom, man says "In you I find my spirit!" and she then dances for him, as wise women live to dance the dance of spirit.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Kerrie Guy:</span></u></strong> We are all students and teachers top each other ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Once we accept this truth learning becomes so much clearer...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I often ask myself as I observe supposed beggars on the streets who in fact is the real beggar ...The one who begs or the one who gives to the beggar...?????</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">On a lighter note...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mahmoud I knew this was a true story the second I read your friend was late!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Welcome to Egypt :))) LOL</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Nawara Magdy Belal:</span></u></strong> I like your justification as much as I think it’s more of psychological than philosophical because it’s your unconscious that is trying to find a relief... and if I know you a little bit I would say that you are always seeking for salvation but turn into... self punishment and if that is the case then you want to curse your whole gender as if its men who are contributing to the earthly state that we are going through now which is of course somehow true... because if you don’t empower women you will always lack earthly salvation...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Zainab El-Mansi:</span></u></strong> Yes, it's not education or social class that governs our behaviour though they of course affect it. I believe that one's own beliefs coming from one's own thinking that govern her/his behaviour. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">You never know how this woman used to think or was before being a homeless person! Maybe she considered others one day, and now when no one considers her, she unconsciously considered them, people can be really cruel to each other. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">AGAIN stereotypes :))!!!! It is NOT in women nature that they focus on keeping the house clean!!! It's supposed to be there in every human being who is CLEAN. Society stamped women with this "job" of caring about the house, but human beings should care about the place they live in :))</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Monda Salem:</span></u></strong> As I told you a couple of days ago,, we writers seek a philosophical explanation for every little thing in that world. We kind of complicate everything no matter how futile or trivial it is. We conduct experiments, we keep everything under observation then reach and draw a conclusion. We believe everything happens, happens for a reason. That makes us permanently in unceasing search for the reasons behind anything and everything which leave us restless. We don't believe that some things sometimes happen for no reason. Bottom line, we invent a reason in our minds and we don't care facing hard times in this strenuous mental trauma trying to find an explanation for anything.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">As for the attitude of this woman, my family did not teach me how to respect the street. Or they taught me theoretically without following the rules themselves. However, I learnt all that by myself or you can say "acquired". So, I believe that such things are not taught or learnt. Actually it is a gift!!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Noha A.ElGedy:</span></u></strong> The thing I like the most is your view for things, your analytical analysis for the situation, and the storm of unanswered questions that blew through your soul! You just missed one and simplest answer that you might think of to be absurd; each and every living human being has some small morals left in him...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Ahmed Elmaghraby:</span></u></strong> Well my friend, I’m not trying to find reasons for the old woman, why she had to do that, because as you mentioned it is a multi factorial issue and we will go through a dilemma until we find out why she had to do because no one can answer it but the old woman. So it was very nice how you start this about we the writers make a variation when we use the pronouns, but sometimes we shift and convey to use (you) to get the complete attention of the readers in order to make them invade the heart of the incidence :) Good job bro :)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">May Rostom:</span></u></strong> Egyptians WORSHIP delegation. We have cooks to cook for us, drivers to run errands, maids to clean our houses, people to wash and iron our clothes and simply someone to pick up our rubbish! and as long as we have someone there for us to help us out, we'll NEVER do anything on our own (that applies to all human beings but Egyptians happen to take FULL advantage of this option!)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Hanan El-Dakkak:</span></u></strong> Well, the first thing I thought of when this old poor lady threw the can in the garbage can, was that she was deceived... she thought it had something to drink, but then it was actually empty. She might have done this because she thought that's where it deserves to be, or, she's avoiding the deceiving of any other desperate street wanderer. She doesn't want someone else to feel the same depression she had.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Salma Mohamed:</span></u></strong> Well Mahmoud I agree with Hanan's post. That's what popped in to my mind when I first read it. Adding to that I think that she could be minimizing her options of finding empty cans. She does not want to get back to the same street and see the empty can again. In that case she might look at the can again and feel desperate again because she remembers that the can is empty or she might forget that the can is empty and inspect it again and then feel desperate again. Anyway she is in a miserable state.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Noha Khatib:</span></u></strong> It is really so puzzling how sometimes observing starts from a point of just spending time, ends up with thinking about our role or even what we have felt during our act of observing... it is a very impressive journey that has discoveries... on both sides; outside and inside ourselves... very beautiful and deep short story, it arouses many and a lot of questions inside my mind, by the way I hate short stories :) just as I have studied most of times they end up without specific end and am so specific person and always love clear ends but really this one is fabulous in the way of starting it and in the way you narrate the whole incident, very smoothly that affects me how really I can justify the old woman attitude and really am eager to read more of your writings... with my best regards. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Geetanjali Dey:</span></u></strong> A very sensible yet a very simple story..... I simply went with the progress of the story... The depict was beautifully done and narrated well in the platform of expression..... I have developed a respect for you for recognizing the beauty of womanhood...... Very few people, rather being very categorical, a class of "Gentle Men" only has the courage to regard women for who and what they are..... We are so drown in the world of class, society, show off etc., that we are forgetting our own foundations..... I am glad to know you Mahmoud, who translated a story for a poor lady, barring her class, her belonging and what she is..... It's a true homage to her!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">All that I can say lastly is "God Bless You" !!! :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Emily Richardson:</span></u></strong> Well, this is a perfect example of "Be the change you wish to see in the world" and this woman illustrates how good character is not based on social class or education, but on something much more intrinsic. Even though she's a beggar, she has maintained her self-respect.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Jackie Shaeffer:</span></u></strong> One of the first things I thought was... it doesn’t necessarily HAVE to be a woman thing. I, for one, know plenty of women who could care less about the cleanliness of their own home, never mind the streets which they walk on.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Perhaps she is simply one of those human beings, both men and women alike, who long to see this world in its natural glory... where the sky was a clear blue and the grass was bright green.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It did remind me of the stories my mother told me about a small very old village in Guatemala she visited sometimes. She was always fascinated by how the people that lived there would sweep the front of the streets of their houses and how they all seemed to work together to keep the whole city clean. Can you imagine if all of us as humans cared that much to try to keep our cities clean? Can you imagine the amount of unity that could bring? Seeing something like that would be miraculous!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Marwa Tarek:</span></u></strong> "Way to go, dude" And considering that beggar, I guess she did that out of emptiness "faragh" -.- I mean if you took her back to the same situation again I guess 90% she wouldn’t make... that "effort" again I don’t know.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><b>Your Native Writer,</b></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><b><span style="color: blue;">Mahmoud Mansi</span>.</b></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><b>-One of the Twenty Winners for the Literary Award / <span style="color: blue;">A SEA OF WORDS</span> 2010</b></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><b>-HR Specialist / Arab Academy for Science, Technology and Maritime Transport</b></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><b>-International Author / “<span style="color: blue;">A Journey from Darkness to Light</span>”</b></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div></div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-78857664745416995072011-01-23T04:01:00.000-08:002011-02-06T05:14:51.321-08:00Fragments of Me - Story by (Mahmoud Mansi) - Reviews - Criticism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxzutj7ugGjzKYO4As6cQE6c1kN-PUzpXMVIWfxYRb6HqU8P8wicQJALm7_mm0JRdHxY8EAWMXGx5NoTDenFTTpJLGnPQWCS25wr5vd5_Tk0iSJxLcj07yRutNYltAUkyAikvMSHkASc/s1600/alex.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxzutj7ugGjzKYO4As6cQE6c1kN-PUzpXMVIWfxYRb6HqU8P8wicQJALm7_mm0JRdHxY8EAWMXGx5NoTDenFTTpJLGnPQWCS25wr5vd5_Tk0iSJxLcj07yRutNYltAUkyAikvMSHkASc/s320/alex.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">© Mahmoud Mansi</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Egypt / Alexandria / Gleem / 2009</div><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Fragments of Me…</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">A Story about <span style="color: blue;">Alexandria</span>,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I left the lights behind, and vanished through the darkness of the pure night. It was something much more mysterious than magic which called my name. I heard the sighs of the Mediterranean, whispering me back for an old reunion. I’ve just entered the forgotten zone of wonders. The breeze that I couldn’t exhale for years, took my spirit flying into another world. It’s been ages since I left the lights of the city, and explored a new variety. My native genes nostalgically awakened the lost feelings inside my heart. I looked at the wavy sea and the few scattered fishermen busy in its science. The young ones were wearing a moustache, while the eldest grew their beards. I stood still trying not to disturb their nature, and listened to their spoken words of wisdom. Such words could not be spoken by philosophers or written in any foreign literature books. How determinant they were! I wondered, “How life is so different here, while the city is just a few steps away!”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I looked to find the boats resting on the shore waiting for their next expedition. I wondered, what if we spent our sleep times dreaming about our next battle! Walking through them, and feeling the salt on their old wooden body, my eyes spotted their painted names. They were all names of their beloved ones and symbols of an unfound culture. Maybe those poor fishermen have no effective tools to change the city, but they still got the passion that doesn’t exist anymore in the bright citizens, and in me! I knew that the shore (that everyone sees but never approaches with a thoughtful spirit) was actually the real Alexandria! The spirit of magic that yet never died, but have become nearly extinct… We have been attached too much to the city with all its seducing lights and twinkling desires till we became part of it, while pulling one another to its vortex. The more we dive deeper, the more we move faster toward the center of such vortex, and that’s what life is like now; rapid circles that get narrower with each day!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I noticed that it’s only the sunset image that is seen from the seaside, but the huge buildings are always covering the first moments of the sunrise birth. Well that’s the way it always goes with human beings! You are always obligated to greet someone in school, work, street, club, and anywhere, but you only care about saying goodbye to the special ones! You never know when you can see them again. Well, by one way or another, the sun knew about that too! Maybe its rays were late in greeting the fishermen, but were always there for a passionate crimson goodbye. The fishermen knew about that too, that’s why the hidden view of the sunrise greetings didn’t bother them. How amazing!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I thought about the real Alexandria as a word, symbol, history, meaning, culture, and future… How original! I thought about The Lighthouse and how it guided the merchant, fishing and war ships. And I thought about the Great Castle, which took over its glory, and defended the loamy shores of the blessed city of science, art, and magic. Its existence longed for years, “But where was all that now?” It’s no more than a place to visit, watch, and add some words in the history books. Where did all the wonders of science, poetry, art, literature, love, and passion go to?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It’s the land and sea that saw the misery and couldn’t speak about it. The land released its germs. The sea refused to swallow our mistakes, and left it as a living evidence for our bloody crimes. We were born rich in an era, and had to live watching our wealth go with the next tide. We let it go, because the fake light twinkles tangled our greedy eyes. Our departure was the cause, leaving everything good behind, just gone with the wind. And in return, we struggled to reach a new goal, our desires. We became part of a ridicules game; perusing fashion, taste, colors, movies, cars, races, and any other kind of shallowness while leaving behind only one thing, “Our Life!!!”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I looked at my reflection, and saw the pathetic reality of the life I was living. I thought I was a leader of my own, I thought I was the master of any internal storm and I thought I was actually in control! But I turned out to be just another puppet, dancing for the pleasure of other puppets! No wonder those fishermen own such wisdom, it’s the ugly world they see every day while sailing with their boats. Studying more about a virus, would surely tend to realize a cure! That's what I thought about… I remembered, when there was a curious baby with energy all over his body, and trying to always touch a hot cup of tea while ignoring the orders of his parents; sometimes after all their plans would fail, they eventually leave the child touch the cup! Why did they do that, and still do? Is it cruelty? No it’s reality. When the child learned about the "bad", "danger", "threat", "weakness", I mean any kind of the spread "viruses" around… this child was able to be saved from its danger and its effects!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">From this short expedition in the darkness of the shores, and on the gleam of the reflected moonlight I learned too much about my small city. The city which had been my home since I was born… The city that Alexander the Great once dreamt to make it the Capital of the World!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I glanced at the magnifying view once again, feeling so free, feeling so strong, and feeling like a native too! I’ve been breathing passionate magic for minutes. I wished to stay in this place forever, my real Alexandria. Nevertheless, I faced the lights once again, gave my back to the endless knowledge and walked away… knowing that I have a mission to do, a forgotten message to carry on, and a buried culture to resurrect…</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Published with Beyond Magazine / Cairo / July 2010.</span></strong></em></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Published online with ActivYouth.com.</span></strong></em></div></li>
</ul><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Reviews by my Readers,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Rasha Adel:</u> </strong>"I thought I was the master of any internal storm and I thought I was actually in control! But I turned out to be just another puppet, dancing for the pleasure of other puppets!" this is so insightful on identity crisis of modern humanity... Beautiful work of art. Thanks for the share :)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Jenny Mitchell:</u></strong> <span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh wow Mahmoud... I love this piece; it so reflects life in all its light and shadow. I was moved by your sunset images; your reference to the need to greet everyone, but only say goodbye to those who are special... but more so to your references to children's life lessons and how we teach our children, our efforts to shield them from the bad things in life, but in the end having to allow them experience it (your reference to a hot tea - it's very special to me as I have a very strong memory as a child needing to give my mother her hot tea and spilling it on myself and suffering burns as a result, even after my mother trying to tell me it was too hot for me to pick up).</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mahmoud, your words ring so true to me and mean so much to me. Aside from the obvious references to Alexandria and its lost written wisdom and the lighthouse... I thank you from the bottom of my heart.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Alia Taher:</u></strong> <span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Wow! It's amazing, Mahmoud! I like the profound reflections of self & world expounded here. As an Alexandrian, I can easily relate to the exquisite description of Alexandria as the city of magic, charm, beauty, discovery, revelation & inspiration. In relation to that, there is a beautiful poem entitled "Alexandria" written by Desmond O'Grady & published in his book, "My Alexandria."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I also think the title, "Fragments of Me" is very well chosen because I believe that it is very expressive of the feeling one gets when contemplating the sea. For, we all as humans feel very minute before its vastness & immensity. It fills us with awe & sublimity. Thus, the picture with the caption, "My Parlor of Inspiration," is very befitting of the halo of illumination the sea endows people with. A lovely, eye-opening work of art & great reflections on Alexandria by an Alexandrian writer :)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><strong><u></u></strong><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Enjy Maged Ashour:</u></strong> <span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I think you should check out a song called “The Islander” by “Nightwish”….couldn’t help thinking about it (lyrics & video) while reading,</span> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It’s true how amazing the wisdom of the fishermen is…”the ugly world they see every day while sailing with their boats” & the pirates they encounter on their adventures teach them how to understand & appreciate the buried treasures of life. We too as city people have our own pirates & ugliness to face & learn from but unfortunately we do not always learn our lessons & we still walk right towards the “light” traps just like bedazzled moths!! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">What we truly need is to hop on board those “boats resting on the shore waiting for their next expedition”, set the sails & explore life, see the world with the eyes of fishermen…because experience is the only road to “knowledge” & “wisdom”…we need to be ourselves :“Native Alexandrians” & try to collect the “Fragments of [us]” to be whole again.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">All in all, this is such a great & relatable piece written by a true fisherman. One day, more of us will truly see Alexandria’s wonders & untold tales…One day, Alexander the Great will return to us & lead the way…</span></span></div><span data-jsid="text" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_4d3d4e1c7a1255a29831744"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I also think the title, "Fragments of Me" is very well chosen because I believe that it is very expressive of the feeling one gets when contemplating the sea . For, we all as humans feel very minute before its vastness & immensity. It fills us with awe & sublimity. Thus, the picture with the caption, "My Parlor of Inspiration," is very befitting of the halo of illumination the sea endows people with. A lovely, eye-opening work of art & great reflections on Alexandria by an Alexandrian writer :)</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Carina Bastain de Souza:</u></strong> <span data-jsid="text">Very, very beautiful and wise. And the True Alexandria is always inside you, you were never far from it... you just forget the way for a while...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Noha Salah:</u></strong> I have to make an expedition in the city :)) I felt that I miss many things in it !! I liked every word in this story!! We must ask our selves about the history of this city and what is happening to it now...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-jsid="text"><strong><u>Noha Khatib:</u></strong><span data-jsid="text"> Very impressive ... as we are created from this world soil and inhabit it we share with it a lot, I believe we all are affected by the place we grew up in it with a way or another it became an unseparated part of us in our personality and <span class="textexposedhide">...</span><span class="textexposedshow">our way of thinking .. we are fascinated by the city with all its glowing and attractive things to the limit that it stated to haunt us to chain us with our own wish while on the other contrary we never can abandon the nature with its sea ... we share the sea, this very puzzling nature as he is hugged by the earth and its waves longing for spending sometime on earth's land but it still hold its dignity to be just as himself. I think your words echo with a way or another in everyone's own life ... I adore the spirit of this story a lot and also the powerful metaphors in your writings they always hit a nerve in a mysterious way :)) ...Very Nice short story .. keep it up and wish you the best of luck :)</span></span></span></span></span><span _mce_style="text-decoration: underline;" style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong></strong></span></span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span _mce_style="text-decoration: underline;" style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Hanan El-Dakkak:</u></strong> I'm impressed!!!I love the depth of your vision of Alexandria, the sea, the people...I've always looked at the sea as the treasure of knowledge, wisdom and passion. Alexander the great saw the strength & greatness in the sea, the sun rise is<span class="textexposedhide">...</span><span class="textexposedshow"> born through the sea and sets within its arms... Moses sailed the sea to learn from a privileged slave of Allah! What a gift Allah has bestowed to us, may we learn from the mysteries and deep wisdom of it. May we have it as a mirror to see our true selves, and the waves will only blur our contradictions that plain mirrors don't reflect.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Abu M.Yusuf:</u></strong> <span data-jsid="text">I am amazed with the fluidity of construction of scenes with words so nicely chosen. Alexandria is in our subconscious...a nostalgic reminiscence of prosperous past where humanity had excelled and that is not only fragment of you but fragment of us all, from the feel of magic you make. Thanks so much...lots of love & regards. Hope to read you more in near future, so please keep me in your list of readers.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Colette Frege:</u></strong> <span data-jsid="text">Despite the fact that Alexandria is facing a myriad of problems, there is still magic in this city as you say and this is why I stay! Enjoyed sharing your feelings.. Thanks.</span></span><br />
<span data-jsid="text" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><span data-jsid="text" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span data-jsid="text" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>May Kosba:</u></strong> "</span><span data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Nevertheless, I faced the lights once again, gave my back to the endless knowledge and walked away… knowing that I have a mission to do, a forgotten message to carry on, and a buried culture to resurrect…"<br />
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I love it... One thing stands out he<span class="text_exposed_show">re is the strong sense of belonging to the place. There's a man who acknowledges mistakes of his kind and is willing to carry the burden of responsibility to enliven the culture and the Alexandiran identity..Awesome!</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span data-jsid="text"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Marwa Fawzy Mahmoud:</u></strong> <span data-jsid="text">You resurrected Alexandria in your own so special way. <span data-jsid="text">Now, I understand what you meant by Native Writer. I never thought that a land can spark this stream of thoughts and pictersque words into the brain and sentiments of someone with such eloquence and grace.That was a beautiful piece really :))))</span></span></span></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Salma Mohamed:</u></strong><span data-jsid="text"> Mahmoud. It's really great why don't you continue it as a story. I think you are great at describing what u see and mix it with feelings that bring the picture alive. I think it would be nice to consider a story in which the hero is a boat<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> for example and transfer what your eyes see and what your heart feels to the reader through the boat for example. REALLY GREAT. VERY PROUD.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span _mce_style="text-decoration: underline;" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; text-decoration: underline;"><strong>My Official Group on FaceBook:</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><u></u></strong><a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=14927509892&ref=ts"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=14927509892&ref=ts</span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span _mce_style="text-decoration: underline;" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Book Reviews on Amazon.com:</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Journey-Darkness-Light-Literature-Spirituality/dp/1452010137/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_2"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://www.amazon.com/Journey-Darkness-Light-Literature-Spirituality/dp/1452010137/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_2</span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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</span><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">With Pleasure,</span></em></span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Your Native Writer,</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Mahmoud Mansi</span> .</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">-One of the Twenty Winners for the Literary Award / <span style="color: blue;">A SEA OF WORDS 2010</span></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">-HR Specialist / Arab Academy for Science, Technology and Maritime Transport</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">-International Author / “<span style="color: blue;">A Journey from Darkness to Light</span>”</span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div></div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-62567190441434881002011-01-02T05:00:00.000-08:002011-01-10T03:36:53.592-08:00The Keyhole - Story by (Mahmoud Mansi)<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><strong>The Keyhole, </strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><em>First half of the story is published on paper with Beyond Magazine / Cairo. The second half is published online with Beyond Magazine on this page.</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">With each floor the man ascended, he thought about such assumptions, until he reached the dead-end of the road. He reached the last floor where his creation resided. In such dead-end roads one finds nothingness, one finds nothing but the past along with the death of hope. He believed that there were no dead-end paths in life. There was always a gate there, a closed door somewhere, yet he failed to find it. He only found a door leading to his past, to reality. One becomes entrapped, and finds no other choice but delving into the past. He opened the door; his experiment laboratory. The door toward immortality as some observers would conclude…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">****************</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The body was there, with eyes aiming away from the door. He longed to manifest beauty through a statue, but he only created a revolting freak. Her body had no specific shape. Her limbs were unequal in length. Her face was full of distinctive scars and dreadful wrinkles. His eyes circled with fear and bemusement. Failure fell upon his mood, same as death falls upon those who avoid it. Was this what he devoted his life for, he questioned?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“With our assumptions, we always reach unanswered questions, and this is always what we intend to do, however, it’s the times when we dull our ways, that we accidently reach one of the roots of reality.” The Philosopher once said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“We say it is randomness, but sometimes we draw a reality that our minds could not yet fathom.” The Artist once said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Although mutation is a very common possibility that we all should consider in our field, but with its birth, we may unintentionally discover new facts.” The Scientist once said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sometimes when I stare at the blank pages that I intend to fill with the unrecognized thoughts by my mind, and I start writing, I find myself lost, same as the reader, but in the end I discover much, and I respect such equality bonding a writer with the reader.” The Writer once said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I usually enjoy my struggle with the text. I always see myself through the pages, mislead with my personal life when unconsciously linking it with the text. Sometimes I fail when I try otherwise, that’s when I turn to reading other criticisms, yet accuracy in being neutral is nearly impossible.” A Reader once said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Such hallucinations played much havoc with the sculptor’s mind as he shockingly contemplated the ugliness of his art, his perception to life, his picture of reality. There was no divinity indeed in what he created. The source of creation remained unknown…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The closer he became to the statue, watching her as she leaned her face away from her creator, looking toward the plain wall, exactly as he left her, the more he longed to figure out such result. He circled around her, hoping to find the other side perhaps carrying some beauty. He only found more ugliness as the corners of her face started to become visible. With much boldness and effort, he was able to unfortunately locate her wide eyes staring at him. Trembled with much desire to know, he wanted to leave the place, but he went on circling, hoping to only survive a full three hundred and sixty degree rotation around her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her eyes were too sharp, and he could swear that they were only looking at him. He moved away from their sight, but he still felt that there was something wrong. Reaching half way through, right in front of her face, he saw what every human being tried to avoid; a mirror that reflects reality with no fake facades.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He flinched back once again, but the room was round, with no corners to shelter himself within. He was about to push the statue to watch it being smashed into bits and pieces, he longed to see his creation become as the dust it was created from, but there was a very powerful reason which held him back from such salvation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He escaped, carrying nothing but his unanswered questions and lusty quest for confessing his sin. But what shame would it bring confessing such sin, he thought? That is why he preferred to deal with his own guilt solo, same as he alone was the creator of such dark sin.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He locked the door and kept its key chained round his left thigh. He never approached such floor, same as all of us who failed to atone for our sins, and decided to live with a chain of keys of all the secretive locked doors we once buried.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The sound of the thunder was too loud, threatening indeed, as it struck through the hollowness of the Earth and Sky. It pierced through each unanswered question within his mind, through every keyhole, reaching every room, every secret… as he silently slept, and tossed in his bed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He felt all those feelings as he slept. He was still aware of everything, as the mind never sleeps and the heart never stops. Guilt was a very ugly companion to share the narrow bed with every night. Such companion never sleeps…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The companion whispered many ugly words that the man failed to avoid hearing. Through such words, he heard another irrelevant sound. He heard sounds of friction between metals. He heard a squeezing sound, perhaps an old door being opened slowly. He heard footsteps gradually descending. He counted the footsteps, and the number seemed quite familiar. An ugly smell he felt from far away, a smell of something so recognizable, unlike home, it was like the smell of a rotten grave. Now the man knew that this sound was surely relevant to the one of Guilt. Guilt was not an enemy after all, rather someone trying to rescue what was left.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When the sculptor woke up, he was not sure if this was a dream or not. He went upstairs to check on the door and the statue. All was there in place. He shuddered when he saw the statue through the keyhole. He decided to go on with his life, and make a new piece, in another floor. It was a woman too, but this time, he was inspired by divinity. This time, he worked without covering the future statue with a piece of cloth. He thought this incident was a jinx.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Somehow the man found salvation through his new creation of art. He admired it more, although for the time being it was still incomplete. He worked every day from dawn to midnight, as the statue started to have clear features and a noticeable identity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He spent this night with a new feeling of triumph. His guilt was silent as everything else was. Finally he could sleep with only light crossing the endless distances within his mind. Finally he felt that his art would manifest the true definition of reality.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Right after the dawn, he rose to the floor where his new creation rested. Every night when he was done with working on it, he would cover it. He treated her as if she was real, as he always did with any other piece he ever sculptured. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">However, when he uncovered her, the tree of fear found its way through his heart again, as its roots grasped his heart same as an octopus treats its prey.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He found many details manipulated. All the good features were defaced. For sure someone sneaked there to commit such outrageous lure. But then he remembered, perhaps he was the one creating ugliness out of beauty!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He fixed the contaminated parts and went one with his art. Though suspicious, but tranquility nourished his mind as he danced with his fingers upon the clay, and shined the special flame of magic that intellectuals are always blest with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The next day, while staring at the covered piece, he had the same flavor of fear that touched his heart right before seeing his other cursed statue for the first time, the same kind of fear that held him back from smashing it. However, this time he was bold enough to unearth his dreams from the coffin, and bring it back to life. No matter what can be waiting in one’s past, but he decided to confront it this time, only this time…</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The darkness cast upon humankind, comes from the deepest fear of every human being, the fear of failure, the fear of being nothing at all, not even clay. And this fear is one of the raw energy that keeps one going on until the last drop. This is the way of doom, and the way of salvation. It is the way to death, and it is the way to life. One usually walks through this way, not knowing which to expect. This only happens when one knows the true meaning of life, finds more lively values within it, or it might also happen when one loathes everything in life and seeks a way out. The most vital element common between both scenarios is that one puts life on the other hand, and decides to totally risk its existence.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ego sometimes opposes this kind of fear, and at other times it flows with it, this is when rationality comes to life, although, it is the output (the result of the experiment) that is the only judge that decides if a choice was rational or not.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">With a trembling and hesitating hand he touched her face, as a blind one anticipating the face of a stranger. But she was no stranger! A bemusing smile was drawn on his face. He kept contemplating his creation with bliss and pride, as if he was watching his own self in the mirror.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">On the morrow, he woke up to find the statue smashed, scattered… dead! absolutely turned into useless bits. He fell on his knees, thundering a deep cry while collecting the tiny particles of his creation within his arms, as if embracing her. He was exactly mourning, over her, over his effort, over the time he spent, over the hope that died… he was mourning over himself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">All the doors and windows were perfectly locked. Perhaps there were smaller gaps that only allowed a few insects to pass through and find their own survival into such ignored building.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">His sadness and sorrow now shifted to extreme anxiousness, he was worrying about himself now. He started thinking about the source of such crime. For sure everyone has several enemies, especially thinkers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He checked every nook and canny in the building, and found nothing at all, no clues or possibilities.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For an instant he wished from God that the other statue was the one smashed, although he would have never noticed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He collected his scattered grief, while remembering each drop of passion he put into such piece. Tear drops never wash away the pain, they never wash reality, but they only make us more ready to face it. He was now ready to face his past. When one has no future to confront, the past becomes the only opponent.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He buried her fragments in the yard. He tottered to his parlor, buried himself into the bed, with much drugs being digested in his stomach. He succeeded to sleep. He wished he was alone, but he never was. This night, Guilt and Rage were his companions. He never expected his bed would fit such numerous figures. He wondered, would it fit for more?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fierce friction between metals, irritating squeezing, heavy footsteps gradually descending, that is all that he heard. Coming closer and closer, Guilt and Rage surrounded him, enshrouded within their whispers he heard the same distinctive sound, coming close and closer, accelerating, racing with his heart beats.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He felt this clutch upon his heart, squeezing it with anger, as if revenging from him. Guilt and Rage were vociferating words he did not quite well fathom. They were useless, he thought. Guilt and Rage were no more than two useless soldiers. Like those of chess, they only take action when you are powerful enough to do so. He reminded himself to curse them later, if he ever had the chance to survive.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He woke up with sweat all over him, feeling deep pain piercing into his heart. No one was there. The place was dead same as hope was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He stood up, wore his shield; Guilt, and held his sword; Rage, and headed up toward the heavens. He did not know that hell was waiting there for him...</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“We are no more than various mirrors that only reflect what actually exists, yet we are blamed for being much accurate!” The Philosopher said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“The only crime we keep on committing is the reality we urge to always reflect.” The Artist said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Our trip to discovery requires lots of intelligence, however, it requires more boldness where one risks everything… sometimes we risk our own beliefs.” The Scientist said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“We are only here to suggest, and not force our opinions. Instead of attacking one, save more energy to suggest your own opinions.” The Writer said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“As we delve deeper into reality, following it becomes more of an obligation rather than complete randomness.” A Reader said.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He bowed to look through the keyhole. It was all dark in there. He could not see the features of the statue, but she sure was there, erecting as a shadow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He thought he heard a sound in there, but again he was mistaken. Every day he witnessed such struggle with the unknown past. He would take a peek, and then anticipate things while he slept. Never did he open the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">At one night, as he allowed his vision to enter the keyhole, he thought he found the statue not in its place! The room was empty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He hastened to open the door. The key was stuck. The door never opened. He rushed back to his grave and locked the door of his room. He did not sleep this night.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He avoided going upstairs. He did not find heaven there. He only found emptiness. Thus he ignited a flame and scattered fuel all over the last floor. He threw a small portion of explosives along with the flame and felt the heat growing right behind him as he ran away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He smiled with triumph as he watched his own mutant being eaten by the fire. He was not afraid anymore, nor ashamed. This was hell indeed, but he had to wash away his sins.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He slept peacefully in his room, leaving it unlocked. They are the rare moments in this life that one witnesses peace within. As the ashes scattered, bliss filled his heart. A new artist inside him was birthed, a new human being!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The next morning he went upstairs, into the room of darkness, aiming to purify his past. He carried a shove upon his shoulders to end any remaining solid pieces of the ugly statue, but he found nothing, all ash.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He went to the other room, where he previously created the other statue, the beautiful one, to prepare his tools for the new beginning.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Blissfully he entered to find a guest waiting there for him. She turned from far away to face him. He previously recognized her from the smell. The scent of home he breathed, the scent of reality, the scent of his ugly creation, his ugly past.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I knew you were real,” he hardly spoke.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She did not speak. Her silence was more irritating than any other thing. It was torture seeing such dehumanized details brought to life and moving.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He did not move. His stability was more of a curse, watching her getting closer while he failed to even blink. The numbness all over his body was same as the passion existing within him as he created such sin.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He knew that there was no escape. He had to pay for his crime. Perhaps Guilt and Rage were no more than two illusions, or perhaps they belonged to another world, he wondered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As she approached, limping with her unbalanced body, he felt the clutch upon his heart once again. Her grip was stronger than what he expected. They were now face to face, with only inches separating them. He felt death soothing him. New details bloomed through her face. He saw oppression, humiliation, injustice, much rape and killing, children crying, people dying, nature weeping and fear controlling… He found a victim of life, just another crucified angel. He found in his heart much sympathy, love and sadness. He smiled at her as death took him away, she smiled back with much kindness and love.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Hours later, people from the village gathered along with some rescuers around the building with the burnt roof. They all walked in when no one answered. Astonishment struck their minds when they saw the scene.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What a miraculous piece of art!” they all wondered with passionate eyes. “Poor Pygmalion, he passed away while blessing the world with his immortal art, his best piece ever!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They all fell sad for a moment of mourning. One of them said, “This era needs such torches of light. We must deliver it to the rest of the world, this will be our message.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"><em>(This story is dedicated to my best friend Mohamed Mansour / the one who inspired me with his painting).</em></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><strong>Published with Beyond Magazine / Cairo / 2010.</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>Your Native Writer,</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>Mahmoud Mansi ,</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>One of the Twenty Winners for the Literary Award / A SEA OF WORDS 2010</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>HR Specialist / Arab Academy for Science, Technology and Maritime Transport</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>International Author / “A Journey from Darkness to Light”</em></strong></div> <br />
<div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-392313875692572638.post-7560522313044107172011-01-02T04:53:00.000-08:002011-02-06T11:57:50.592-08:00Identity of a Shadow - Story by (Mahmoud Mansi) - Reviews - Criticism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNaAt4WJmV7_7aw9kYR8eCa5LUu5Qy3Z-BHQDyh7GzmPtihU0nuFYnZ1KvWb8aSa_nN7OLDhxzMuh-uc0H29kbFZ9hK_oSFMY6_EcI9P_BUUnxWzrEe8YN2xQDHo1AM-6uwztaziz5Yqs/s1600/Exit+Window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNaAt4WJmV7_7aw9kYR8eCa5LUu5Qy3Z-BHQDyh7GzmPtihU0nuFYnZ1KvWb8aSa_nN7OLDhxzMuh-uc0H29kbFZ9hK_oSFMY6_EcI9P_BUUnxWzrEe8YN2xQDHo1AM-6uwztaziz5Yqs/s320/Exit+Window.jpg" width="170" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Exit Gate / © Mahmoud Mansi</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Spain / Barcelona / December 2010</div><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Identity of a Shadow,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In a world that never smiled, a truth that never spoken and miracles that were never visible… the moonlight shone so bright along the silver pond that was a plot for a historical yet unknown incident.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He was there, staring through the stars, devastated from life as lots of his kind, searching for salvation among the realms up high, as they may have searched for salvation within the low spot he stood still.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As he drank from its silver drops, he found his reflection upon its mirror visage. How much did life change his beauty into much ugliness! Scars were all over his face and body, making him smile from sadness instead of happiness. He kept staring at the sky that seemed like staring back to him. If the earth abandons us, will the stars disbelief in our mission?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He thought he heard a cry, but it was real. A continuous weeping of a child that echoed within the gaps of his life. Beyond the silver pond, he thought he saw the figure behind the tree, but it was only a shadow. It was too dark, too glamorous, when life goes too harsh while still it’s full of vast wonders for us to discover!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He found an old small boat that only had room for one. He felt lucky using it for reaching the shore that carried much mystery and puzzles. It’s the unraveled instinct inside us that always drives our interests to the unknown, to the unsolved riddles. It can be a blessing. It can be a curse. We can never know, unless we pass to the other side of the shore!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He floated on his way to the other side, where the pond was full of unknown creatures diving underneath his endeavor. He didn’t see them, but feeling their existence was enough! Nevertheless, He kept fighting with his doubts, risking his life, all for the unknown!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The other side was like a different planet. He followed the sound, and the shadow he saw from far away. He circled around the tree to find the one that was weeping. The child buried his face through his hands.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Are you lost?” the man said.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The child never replied, as least he stopped crying. “Who are you?” he asked again, “Where are your parents?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You are!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I am? How come?” the man smiled to comfort the child.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You found me, thus I am yours.” And he held the boots of the man. He kneeled to hold the child and life him up, but he found him too heavy. He tried to explain but he couldn’t understand. He wanted to tell the child that it’s not who found you that must be your parent, but it’s who led you to this alien place!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The grip of the child was too strong when he held the man’s left foot. The man struggled to release it till he succeeded in flinching away. Suddenly the child looked so scary, it made the man even farther with his body and further with his heart.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He kept walking through the dull trees and dark land, but wherever his fear drove him to, he saw the same images and scenes. It was as if he was thrown into a maze; one that has no way out except for being part of it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The cries of the child never left his ears. The man struggled too hard to overcome the maze, and dominate it with his strength, intelligence, emotions and sixth sense, but he always failed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He felt like being a part of an unbreakable system that he longed to decode. First it was failure that he felt, but later it turned to feeling lost. He wanted to go back. He wished he can touch the lake of beasts once again; to just stay by the shore of it, or have a dive with those creatures of doom, just anyplace away for this maze!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Through the woods he delved through, he was about to reach the solution for this equation, hence he found another child by a rotten tree. Her pigtail braids were about a meter long, dangling on the floor as she stood there silent as a grave. Their length reflected an age she never grasped for, yet he had no choice but to approach her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She kindly smiled as she gave him her back. Her hair was as strong as wood. She never turned toward him. He was the one who circled to find her smile directed toward him after the anonymous song she was chanting.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Who are you?” he asked.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I am your daughter!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“And how can you say so? Because I found you?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“No. It’s because you are afraid, yet approached.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Confused, shuddering, “I approached because I am lost!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Those who abandon their offspring are surely lost,” her smile faded away.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As she stared, he found his way into the maze once again. He was lost there for who knows till when. Nevertheless, he found the lake once again! He raced his doubts toward it. The cries were there once again. And the first child was still there, waiting. Across the other tree, she bloomed, “I am his sister.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The man knew that he had to confront them in order to find a way out!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The boy, “This is the land of the lost ones.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The girl, “Take us to the other side.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“So do I,” the man yearningly shared.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He endeavored to carry the little boy that was nearly handicapped. She looked at the man and said, “This boat only carries two of us. It’s the same that brought us here! You should make the choice.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He wanted to go back by any means, though he was too suspicious regarding their anonymous identity. He decided to let them go on the boat, and he would swim among the beasts!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He watched the boat disappear within the darkness. He delved into the mystery of the murky silver lake that shone within the night. He swam too fast to avoid as much alien creatures as he can!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The temperature of the water changed much as he peddled. He thought he saw several islands and heard many secrets from underneath, yet ignored all for the sake of survival. When he was halfway through, an enormous storm was there, with towering waves, as if he was in an ocean. Waves took him so high and dwelled him too low, yet he kept peddling to the promised shore.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He kissed the land as his hands touched the shore. It felt like a journey of years! He looked around happily, ran along the bushes, toward his home that was once too alien for him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">With dazzled eyes, he pushed the bushes, anticipating the scent of his place to find himself in another realm! He sure landed on the wrong shore! He kept wandering through its ugliness, lost, confused… afraid too! Till he found the two children there…</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He asked them eagerly, “What is going on? I do not understand!!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">They answered, “Don’t you know, misery and dullness are the shadows that follow us.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The man fell silent, devastated, he sat there, right next to them. They became his best friends; his new family. They shared with him their company, and he shared with them their curse…</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><strong>Published with Beyond Magazine / Cairo / August 2010.</strong></em></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><strong>Published online with United-Humanity.com</strong></em></div></li>
</ul><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Reviews by my Readers,</span></strong><br />
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<strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Carina Bastian de Souza:</span></u> </strong><span data-jsid="text">Yes, the world is full of misery and dulness but it has light and love as well. Each one of us has scars as a result of our inner fight between those two forces.Each one of us has to decide what side we are going to feed inside us.We are stronger, braver and smarter than we think. Once we choose light and love, with all of our faith, we are not lost anymore. You carry misery and dullness with you only if YOU want it.It's your choice!! Don't blame others! Don't you ever dare to give up!!</span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Imelda A Williams:</span></u></strong> C<span data-jsid="text">ommon sense of communicating to any citizen in this world will all help us understand each other "culture, personality, tradition" appreciation of what in been gained in an Education; shall all link us in unity.</span></span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Nancy Schultz:</span></u></strong> <span data-jsid="text">Mahmoud...this is simply FANTASTIC !!! I love your writings...one would not dare skip over even ONE WORD for each word you write instills some emotion, or brings to ones eyes an actual picture of what is happening in the story. Keep writing, my friend, for if you don't the world would be missing something of great beauty !</span></span></span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Heidi Lessmann:</span></u></strong> <span data-jsid="text">The man's two companions misery and dullness found him after he had searched for something...his identity.Before he found them had to first deal with two other companions fear and danger.His life followed by shadows that we all have to master in our lives.Our lives are an adventure, we travel with shadows that we learn to live with. We have the choice, either we let the shadows control us or we have the strength to know their character and face them with a smile.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Alia Taher:</span></u></strong><span data-jsid="text"> Mahmoud, it's lovely & very profound as usual. I really enjoyed reading it. I like the way you tackle & depict the theme of belonging & the sense of closure that the story culminates into after the struggle the hero undergoes throughout the<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> story. The continuous weeping sound that he hears & which somewhat echoes throughout the story, thanks to the vivid description, reminds me of some famous lines in Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem "In Memoriam." This is how they go:<br />
<br />
But what am I?<br />
An infant crying in the night;<br />
An infant crying for the light,<br />
And with no language but a cry.<br />
<br />
Similarly, the hero of your story as well as all humanity are crying & yearning for the light. The hero & the children experience this light through sharing & togetherness, since he embraces their burdens & they embrace his & this creates a sense of comfort & serenity. A lovely piece of writing indeed. Keep up the good work :)</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><span data-jsid="text"><span class="text_exposed_show"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Aliaa Mohamed:</span></u></strong><span data-jsid="text"> An outstanding gothic story, a brilliant one indeed :). I loved those lines : "It’s the unraveled instinct inside us that always drives our interests to the unknown, to the unsolved riddles. It can be a blessing. It can be a curse. We can n<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">ever know, unless we pass to the other side of the shore!"<br />
<br />
I like how you depicted the man's inner conflict & agony through scars & weeping. He was pursuing something neglecting his inner soul (the child within him) till it became dull & miserable. Portraying his uselessnes in the handicapped boy was really interesting. You made it easy for me to visualize it & I somehow perceived it as a dream =)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Noha Khatib:</span></u></strong><span data-jsid="text"> PERFECT ..... so impressive , really through life when we pass through the passage of being lost misery and dullness become a two familier companions for us our , lands become very strange places to us and we decame so doomed , but we must<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> never give up life is but a thread of challenges and we must fight for finding our way through it . Sometimes we must fight our fears to know what is ambigues to us in order to conqure it and find our way towards the peace road but if we surrender to it our life will be crowded by more heavy guests even heavy than misery and dullness . Really it is the first gothic short sory i read and it make sense to me , the way you repreasented his journey and his discoveries aroused my curiosity so much , i think it is not the man story only it is most of us story we always bring misery and dullnes to our life making them a stable guest then we suffer alot to puch them out and conquer them kicking them out of our life forever .... wish you impress us with more of your beautiful artistic pieces and cordial thanks for sharing :))</span></span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"><span class="text_exposed_show"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Maria Neville:</span></u></strong> <span data-jsid="text">Excellent piece of literature Mahmoud..beautiful metaphors...very moving...and true...we never know if our unsolved riddles are a blessing or a curse unless we cross to the other shore.....</span></span></span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-jsid="text"><strong><u><span style="color: blue;">Manal El Diwany:</span></u></strong> Great ending ! </span></span></span><br />
<span data-jsid="text"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-jsid="text"><br />
“He asked them eagerly, “What is going on? I do not understand!!”<br />
They answered, “Don’t you know, misery and dullness are the shadows that follow us.”<br />
<br />
Let me say that's sometimes the essence of the word 'fate' He left " the sil<span class="text_exposed_show">ver pond that was a plot for a historical yet unknown incident." to find something out there on the other side, returned back wiz"misery and dullness".Isn't that wat we face every single day?! expectations that may be shattered for any reason or another. <br />
<br />
"They shared with him their company, and he shared with them their curse…" <br />
I can say that this became his curse too. <br />
<br />
But let me ask a question please. Is there any connection between the boy & misery,and the girl & dullness ?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"><br />
Because I ended up founding the two of them wiz him and the girl was discribed as "she stood there silent as a grave. Their length reflected an age she never grasped for " that's simply dullness.Earlier u mentioned this about da boy "He circled around the tree to find the one that was weeping. The child buried his face through his hands" again that's how misery is,so I can tell that this is a connection may be from my point of view ! it will be a pleasure to hear urs too.<br />
Great job Mansi<br />
keep going..</span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>Your Native Writer,</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Mahmoud Mansi</span>.</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>-One of the Twenty Winners of the Literary Award / <span style="color: blue;">A SEA OF WORDS</span> 2010</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>-HR Specialist / Arab Academy for Science, Technology and Maritime Transport</em></strong></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><strong><em>-International Author / “<span style="color: blue;">A Journey from Darkness to Light</span>”</em></strong></div></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div></div>Mahmoud Mansi (Native Writer)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13768130621579091024noreply@blogger.com1