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Blowin’ in the wind

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I was listening to an old song by Bob Dylan. 

I didn’t really care about the lyrics, I was just lost in the melodies. Until a moment paused as one line seized me: 

How many years can some people exist

Before they’re allowed to be free? 

Yes, how many times can a man turn his head 

Pretending he just doesn’t see? 

The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind

The answer is blowin’ in the wind

the ancient song whispered truths of the present so profoundly that disbelief intertwined with wonder.

Is this song really from 1963?

Let’s go through this line by line. 

How many years can some people exist before they are allowed to be free ?:

This haunting refrain resonates through ages, a bitter reminder of the disgusting Bigotry that plagues our world, from the shackles of slavery to today’s events in Gaza, The journey towards liberation was never easy. Yet, the human spirit endures, and will always endure.

How many times can a man turn his head, pretending he just doesn’t see?:

I was most deeply hurt by this particular line. For too long, humanity looked away from the suffering of others, thinking that being neutral is the best possible position. But in reality, a man dies when he refuses to stand up for that which is right.

The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind:

This is a testament to the ephemeral nature of truth and the ever-changing currents of destiny. 

This song left me speechless. 

And it reminded me of our identity as Tunisians, reminded me of words that were carved  in our hearts so that we never forget, but we seem to always forget:

إِذا الشَّعْبُ يوماً أرادَ الحياةَ

فلا بُدَّ أنْ يَسْتَجيبَ القدرْ

ولا بُدَّ للَّيْلِ أنْ ينجلي

ولا بُدَّ للقيدِ أن يَنْكَسِرْ

 

Written by: « Al Fari9 Pro Max ».

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À vos plumes

Woman with a parasol

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« what are you so afraid of losing when nothing in this world belongs to you. »

I think of this quote way often, way more than i should.
Every time the sunset is too beautiful, the trees cast the shadows on the streets, and i catch myself missing old versions of me, of how everything used to be .. every time a train passes by and i just stand there, standing still in a world that’s constantly moving forward.

Every time i raise my eyes to the vast deep blue sky and the stars are flickering with light, a passionate light, showering the world with their magic. Every time the moon is following me down a long heavy road from home to home — a feeling I’ll never get used to. Every time i catch a bird doing its little dance in the misty rain and it all feels a bit too good to be true .. every time a familiar face passes next to me on a road busy with people, with life.

Every time i feel safe, scared, hopeful .. every time i feel, i am reminded of how « nothing in this world belongs to me, and i belong to everything. » Of how i have nothing to lose yet everything to experience .. what a wonderful gift it is that none of this grief i carry between the palms of my hands belongs to me, none of this beauty around me belongs to me. I get to live through it all. I get to experience it all.

Written by: Hadil Khalili

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