ذلك الرجل الغريب
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أوراق فارغةما أنا إلا ورقة بيضاء، مصيرها الاحتراق، تمامًا كمصير هذه الأوراق التي تواجهني ببياضها، فأرتجف أمامها حد الذعر. الآلام ذاتها تستتر بين ثنايا دفاتري، وبين مسوداتي التي يغدو بياضها وحشًا يحدق بي. وكلما هممت بالكتابة، شعرت أن الوحش يلتهمني قبل أن تولد كلماتي.
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أنا شغوف بالكتابة، بل مدمن عليها. كلما سنحت لي لحظة فراغ، أشعر بأن عليّ أن أكتب؛ في المقاهي، وفي سيارات الأجرة، وفي أي مكان. لدي شخصية تميل إلى الإدمان، وبما أنني لا أدخن ولا أتعاطى المخدرات، فإنني أكتب.
- الكاتب المكسيكي: غييرمو أرياغا.
فَيا مَن لِقَلبٍ لا تَنامُ هُمومُهُ وَيا مَن لِعَينٍ لا تَنامُ اللَيالِيا رَأَيتُ اللَيالي ما تَزالُ تَروعُني بِأَحداثِها ما لِلَّيالي وَما لِيا وَلَم يَبقَ عِندَ الدَهرِ خَطبٌ أَخافُهُ فَكَيفَ اِعتِذارُ الدَهرِ إِن رُحتُ شاكِيا إِذا لَم تَكُن لِيَ آسِياً أَو مُؤاسِيا فَلا تَكُ لَوّاماً وَذَرني وَما بِيا فَإِنّي رَأَيتُ اللَومَ يُذكي صَبابَتي كَذاكَ عَهِدتُ الزِندَ بِالقَدحِ راوِيا أَلا حَبَّذا مِن سالِفِ العَيشِ ما مَضى وَيا حَبَّذا لَو كانَ يَرجِعُ ثانِيا زَمانٌ كَقَلبِ الطِفلِ صافٍ وَكَالمُنى لَذيذٌ وَلَكِن كانَ كَالحِلمِ فانِيا أَحِنُّ إِلَيهِ في العَشِيِّ وَفي الضُحى حَنينَ غَريبٍ جائَهُ الشَوقُ داعِيا وَأَذكُرُهُ ذِكرى العَجوزِ شَبابَها وَأَبكي لَدى ذِكراهُ أَحمَرَ قانِيا وَلَولا أُمورٍ في الفُؤادِ أَسُرُّها جَعَلتُ عَلَيهِ الدَهرَ وَقفاً لِسانِيا خَليلَيَّ أَعوامُ السُرورِ دَقائِقٌ وَأَيّامُهُ كادَت تَكونُ ثَوانِياhttps://www.aldiwan.net/poem62816.html
“I am under the influence of a melancholy that grounds me to the earth. I feel as if I were a fragment of some object that has fallen and broken.”
Mary Shelley, Journal, 29 September 1826.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1797–1851) She was an English novelist, short-story writer, essayist, biographer, and one of the pioneers of science fiction. Born in London to philosopher William Godwin and feminist writer Mary Wollstonecraft, she is best known for Frankenstein (1818), a novel that forever changed Gothic literature. Her journals, letters, and travel writings reveal a life marked by grief, intellectual curiosity, and profound emotional resilience following the deaths of several of her children and her husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley.
“I am under the influence of a melancholy that grounds me to the earth. I feel as if I were a fragment of some object that has fallen and broken.”
Mary Shelley, Journal, 29 September 1826.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1797–1851) She was an English novelist, short-story writer, essayist, biographer, and one of the pioneers of science fiction. Born in London to philosopher William Godwin and feminist writer Mary Wollstonecraft, she is best known for Frankenstein (1818), a novel that forever changed Gothic literature. Her journals, letters, and travel writings reveal a life marked by grief, intellectual curiosity, and profound emotional resilience following the deaths of several of her children and her husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley.
Perhaps nothing has changed. I was only fooling myself with a fragile sense of meaning, like this one.
Perhaps nothing has changed. I was only fooling myself with a fragile sense of meaning, like this one.
Perhaps nothing has changed. I was only fooling myself with a fragile sense of meaning, like this one.
Two years ago, on March 22, I quit smoking after nearly three years. Throughout that time, I believed cigarettes gave me some kind of meaning. Eventually, I started smoking again. Now, everything seems meaningless. What has changed? I don't truly know.
