In that field, he regularly stood as a boy and shouted. The field was paved with tall green and brown grass. It resembled a savanna that was disrupted by islands of plants and a maze of roads carved by the feet of farmers and the occasional travelers. It was surrounded by hills and green mountains. On his side of the field stood a modest white mosque on the edge of a graveyard that hosted his ancestors, while on the opposite side stood a gigantic villa of a young and lunatic, cigarette and hashish smuggler. On his side of the field the plants had bulkier roots, while on the other side the plants were greener.
In that field, he regularly stood and shouted. Just before the end of his screams, the echo of his voice, on every single occasions, pierced the air and became clearer and clearer. In the few seconds that followed, he always enjoyed the feeling of being the master of the land!
Many years later, he regularly hears the same echo although he stopped shouting. It visits him mostly while drifting to sleep but on occasions it is clearer at early mornings. It becomes louder as the events of life intensify. It becomes closer to yelling as he tries to embark on new adventures or as he faces life pleasures or tragedies. The screams fade away as his memory drifts back to his side of the field. In the few seconds that follow, the once master of the land fights hard to continue being the master of his life.
- The pics are for his side of the field.. The other side can barely be seen!!