but a jester with no court

We grow up and we are not paying attention because there was no luxury to feel everything that happens, the houses are empty, friends travel, and the streets that we were afraid of at night became empty during the day, a moment comes to look at yourself and then laugh at all the difficult circumstances you went through in Omar, you are supposed to live the best days of your life, then eat, sleep, plan for tomorrow and be surprised by yourself

The topic is not forgetting to forget, the luxury of memory has become a busy staircase, every time you open it, you close it, so you learn to live in the text, half an eye on tomorrow and a half an eye that is still hanging at a closed door, they ask us if you will see new colors, maybe, but the new colors hurt because they remind you of what went

The voices have changed, the names have been erased, the places have become pictures, and no one is talking about everyone, I ask now how are you?

So you reply to them, okay, because there is no word to explain that you are tired, but complete and that you are lost, but not dead

Maybe after years we talk about it quietly, not because it's light, but because we're tired, we remove it every day, so we put it on the side and continue

And so we grow up in my country and you may see us smiling at all the losses because it is an instinct in us