Description
In the absence of the beloved poet Bassam Hajjar, the image of a specter looms, and the echo of the eraser himself reverberates, his soul hoarse with greed and hurt, from an inner self that digs itself out. If one raises one’s voice, it is as if by mistake, like the bubbles of silence swarming between darkness and light. The faint voice rises and passes unnoticed, the true, essential monks. Tomorrow, after many voices have disappeared and the waves have receded, the veil will be lifted to reveal a few jewels at the bottom of the sacred jar, and Bassam Hajjar will be one of these jewels.
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