The basis of this study was to be an introduction to the book Fabrication
The history of biblical Israel, which the author translated.
But due to the complexity of the topic, this introduction was expanded to become a study
A separate discussion about the Israeli influence in shaping history,
Especially the history of the region
In a time when speech has no value, Younes decided to remain silent.
What is the benefit of what he says when he is weak, strange, and free from the constraints of twenty-six years that he spent in a world of fear, loneliness, and near death?!!
Wherever he went and wherever he moved, he was pursued by curses and oppression. Even his attempts to search for a part of his precious past with his wife and son were useless...!
In his relationship with “Abu Al-Rish,” he felt some reassurance from all the alienation that nestled in his heart, but that was not enough for him to find stability and end his torment and loneliness!!
The new circumstances of the country, and the changes in the government, increase his flight and confusion, despite his attachment to all the good people who surrounded him during his ordeal.
“Younes” who longed for everything... nothing saved him!!
Big data spaces:
In fact, talking about “big data” is no longer a common thing. This term is not a fad, a fad, or a shiny new headline in the crowd of this century. Rather, it is:
- An undoubted fact on which the lines and paths of the future will be built
- A phenomenon that is not at risk of extinction whenever data emerges from us and to us.
- Think proactively against the times and the strongest is the one who has the greatest readiness to contain the momentum of big data with professionalism and tight management.
Mango summer:
Mango Summer is a collection of 23 stories written in the style of reduction and condensation. A collection of mixed and complex emotions, a mixture of love, bewilderment, amazement, horror and sympathy
It is a collection of articles including:
Your slumber and your jealousy are killing me. Your neglect and absence kill me. I am here between the magic of your fingertips before dawn opens his heart and eyes. Do you still remember my beloved, or have travels, the call of dawn, and beautiful women of chance stolen you? Am I still in you like a bird that happily pecked your palm and then flew away so that you would not see its hidden sadness? On this day, I woke up to the rose of my heart between your lips. I felt the lines of your face with a tremor of fear that I would ignite her fleeing life. I saw the pupils of your eyes only to read the distances, the textures, and the seas that you crossed with a closed heart, to land exactly where you were destined to amaze me before you stole me. I saw you at the threshold of fear telling me what was in your heart, before you withdrew: I fear that I will die and not be satisfied with the touch of silk in your soul, nor with the storms of a body that was stolen since the first resurrection, nor with the luminous language that childhood buried in her heart, and closed tightly for fear of getting lost and forgotten. I search for you without fear of me, and I do not know how a lover can be the victim of a dream that he stole while unaware of his grief
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