من الكلاكلة الى الحاج يوسف .. بقطار الأنفاق

well dear as i promised i will try to give u a brief summary about Paris nights ; as i told u before they always have got the taste of the mornings of a raped village whose inhabitants woke up one dawn , found out that they were sieged by herds of crazy men shouting out as if instructing them to choose the way they wanna die : burned out if they decided to stay or shot dead if they decide to flee and for that they have only seconds to make up their minds . Paris night have the taste of those hot tears coming down from those glorious eyes of that ghost -like baby who is sucking his mother's empty breast with flies all over deliberatley chosen him as their preferable meal.they r like those teenagers who managed to scape but the war didn't save them so they got dispersed every where . Paris nights dear friend have the color of the wealth of the land that in a bloody metaphoric moment transformed into a curse for my people ; filling out some selfish pockets out of their blood .like the youth whom they r transforming into fanatics.
nights here ,dear , one passes them in replaying the events , in recalling one's detached past ; in thinking about my people , as victims and as criminals in the same time , and if u ask me why criminals ? i will say cos they don't want to be tolerent nor respectful towards one another ! c those ugly images of racisme ; xenophobia , all sorts of discriminations of hanger rape ,misery and unspoken child abuse ; that's is so ugly it's really shameful and so they don't help sleep comes to ur eyes.
in some nights dominate one frustrating picture of that stolen land which one might never be able to get back , of those ugly empty - minded creatures enjoying carelessly the torments of millions and poisoning the land with their ignorance.
Paris night's resembles to the difference between a serie in Sudan TV , with its luxuriously furnished villas , and those hungry homeless every where ; they resmembles to one's confused dreams , when u recall them in the morning and found out that u have been taking london's underground train to go from Kalakla to Hajyousif ,or going to that well equiped hospital in Umbada ( well still those might be one's real wishes in the deep unconscious ) .
They r sorrowful , sometimes a glitter of optimism cross one's night influenced by the fact that one doesn't believe in frontiers; used as a tool for more opression against people , but still it's an exile cos we didn't choose neither where or when nor how ; c the misery of my people those who r inside and those scattered all over the globe .
don't want to look pessimist ; but the reality is more powerful than me . but let me tell u one thing ; i left sudan ,filled of fear , here again fear won't let go of me ;it's true it has added to the existing one , more many different reasons .

.............;follows