ترجمة النص الى العربية في الأسفل

Do you remember when it all started? I think I added you on Facebook. I met you the day before at Sham Mahal bar, you, Salina and Kinana were organizing this movie screening club. The first movie you screened was SlingShot Hip Hop. I remember we were talking about losing weight, but you were proud of your belly. “Without my belly I wouldn’t have managed to drink my coffee when I am laying down on bed,” you explained.

I remember your hair, that magnificent smile of yours.

You were reading my blogposts, you said to me once on gtalk. I was thrilled. You and I got closer when the revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt started. Do you remember those days? We were alive again, no, we were born for the first time in our lives. Look at me smiling just by remember those days. Our time has come, we all knew it.

You were one of the organizers to the sit-in in front of the Egyptian embassy. You were about to be detained if Lina hadn’t pulled you from their hands. I need to tell you something, whenever I see Lina I feel you’re with us, sitting on the third empty chair next to us. Listening. Bassel, do you miss me like I miss you terribly? It hurts, Bassel, you need to do something about this pain. No one else could.

You sent me a message when Days of Anger was announced. You and I were sitting in Rawda cafe, waiting for a miracle to happen. In the cafe, we were the only civilians, the rest were intelligence in disguise. Then we decided to leave before they come to us. But they did come as soon as we were leaving. “Give us your IDs,” five men showed up asking in authoritative tone. “Why?” I asked in fear. But you just handed them your ID, your face turned yellow. They checked your name and let us go. “It’s not him,” they murmured as they left us be.

We agreed together later on that showing up in that day was the stupidest thing we ever did in our lives. It’s stupid, but we were children hungry for a little bit of inspiration, right?

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