« There you are returning to her once more. You never knew how many times you left and how many times you said you would never go back to her. » —Sadek Mohammah, Archaeology of Scorched Cities
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When a man begets war and doesn't know what to do with it, should he bathe it? Should he clothe it? Should he feed it? Should he comb its hair and send it with its siblings to school? ... media_text
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Pollution The prostitute, at the front of the street The prostitute, at the front of the street, approaches media_text
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The fever called "living"! – Edgar Allan Poe An ancient lightning… a small courtyard… a green spot in a child's memory… summers, hot summers… a ghetto that knows rain and mud… and looks forward to mysterious... media_text
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Theft When he woke up from his dream When he returned from his sadness Transitory Experience... media_text
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Between the predisposition to the Absolute, and the red walls of the labyrinth, the paths that lead to the meaning vary. And, whether the letter is a sword, a candlestick, or a wall-- the truth is farther... media_text
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He is busy with his scattered papers. media_text
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