A blurred dream

 Cold and after and vacuum, not only fill this sea Which confers on the cafe a special atmosphere Here everyone escapes from here. There is unity in everything He raised his hand in a salute to Aziz, who understood the intent and brought the coffee, began to turn his papers I will die within seven days, and even then I decided to write, do not know how supposed writing to begin, More likely than such a place Writing seems like the only thing I can do. I want to put a final point in the last line, before the absence devours me Those words that he wrote on his papers were in the hope of descending with Aisha to the underworld. There were light winds, the leaves were scattered, watched, and they flew like a flock of migratory birds, I dropped a paper near that old man, who was still throwing it away since he sat in his place, and he kept running away from his eyes that radiate Alma, The tired old man, who had torn the clothes of the paper, looked at the paper and looked at him, provoked him a lot and drew his face from him, He watched the wrath of the waves and the dead rocks hit hard The poor of those waves do not know that beating in the dead is haraam The man approached him and put the paper on the table and drank coffee in the same one Which angered Aziz, who rushed to drive him out as he approached the customer table But this time he insisted that this strange customer happen Do you want tips oh this? He nervously boycotted what she wanted from me: to help you and advise you Tips on what They are not tips, but many lifestyles I have tried myself, help you live and a dagger planted in your heart He was shocked by the man's answer, and he was still confused What are these methods? And how to live and dagger planted in the heart He asked him to sit down He woke up in horror and found neither the old man nor the cafe nor the sea But he was in a new dream awakened by the voice of the Athan in the phone From him announcing the time of going out for the morning prayer ...