My Report to Goiko is not an autobiography. My personal life has some value, quite comparatively, for me and for no one else, and the only value I knew of in it was in the efforts to ascend from one rung to another to reach the highest point it could reach. Its strength and stubbornness, the peak that I arbitrarily named “the Cretan View”.
Therefore, you, reader, will find in these pages the red trace left by drops of my blood, the trace that indicates my journey between people, emotions, and ideas. Every human being, worthy of being called the Son of Man, must carry his cross and ascend Calvary. Many, in fact most of them, reach the first or second degree. Then they collapse panting in the middle of the journey, never reaching the peak of Golgotha, in other words, the peak of their duty. To be crucified, to be resurrected, and to have their souls saved. Their hearts weaken because of their fear of crucifixion, and they do not know that the cross is the only way to resurrection, and there is no other way.
يقرر شاب عيش حياة هادئة والتخلي عن ماضيه لكن حين يتم قتل أخته الوحيدة يقرر السعي للإنتقام فيعود للتمسك بماضيه الدموي… في ذلك الوقت تحل جريمة بشعة بحق فتيات .
دراسة جميلة لشخصيّة عمر ، فالكاتب العبقريّ ، حلّل شخصية ابن الخطّاب معتمداً على طفولته و هي من أهمّ مراحل الإنسان في تكوينه النفسيّ ، و يبدأ بعدها بسرد الأحداث الّتي تصف هذا التكوين ، من الأخلقيّات الّتي تتوّج بالعدل ، إلى النفسيّة الّتي توّجت بالثبات و القوّة . ومن هنا يكتشف العقّاد أنّ عمر الجاهلي هو نفسه عمر الإسلاميّ ، بالتكوين النفسي و الأخلاقيّ ، لكن نظرته للوجود تغيّرت ، فعداءه للإسلام أوّل ما ظهر لأنّه ظنّه عدوّاً يهدّد بيئته و قومه فحاربه ليدافع عن عقيدته ، هذا الدفاع عن العقيدة بالنسبة للعقّاد نفسه دفاع عمر عن العقيدة الإسلاميّة ، لكنّ الإختلاف بالعقيدة ذاتها ! بينما العقيدةالجاهليّة كوّنته جنديّ عظيماً و مقدام ، كوّنته العقيدةالإسلاميّة بطل تاريخي ، يمثّل طور تاريخيّ للإنسانيّة
There was a tree on the river bank, a coconut tree. Siddhartha leaned over her, wrapped his arm around her torso and then looked at the greenish water flowing beneath him. He looked down and was filled with the desire to lower himself into the water. The terrible emptiness in the water reflected a terrifying emptiness in his soul. Yes. He was at his end. There was nothing left but to remove himself. This was the work he longed to do, to destroy the formula he hated! May the fish devour this heart of Siddhartha, this imbecile, this corrupt and worn-out body, this dull, consuming soul! May the fish and crocodiles devour him and the demons tear him apart.
With convulsive features, he stared at the water and saw his face and spat on it. He moved his arms away from the tree trunk and turned slightly, hoping to fall on his head and dive. With his eyes closed, he leaned toward death.
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