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Coups de cœur Cultura
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An hour before I went to bed, I recognized the smell of death inside the house. Yes, I'm recognizing the smell of death penetrating my heart before my nose. I took a look at everyone and went to my room, and I was abstracted.
I was in the desert while the storms ravaged it as war armor and while the sand is flying, scattering and spread over at the atmosphere as the winds getting increased and the sun is getting too hot that the cactus burns.
I saw from a distance a camel carrying someone above his hump. Who is this man?! The contours of his face seemed familiar but seemed desperate. Is he looking for water? Otherwise, what is he doing in this barren desert? Is he lost? The more the camels approached me, the more I felt that he moves away. It looked as if it was raining as he sheds tears.
The smell of death was heard over and over again in my mind. I tried to approach him but to no avail. He was wearing clothes like Ihram garment (as he performs Hajj)! No, no, like a shroud. Yes, just like a shroud. The clouds blackened the sky with the rain increases!
