"When I take my steps in the stillness of the night, under the extinguishing of the stars, returning to my first and last resting place, that is, my solitude with the mysteries of the venerable season, the trees of Paris bend over my shoulders and I wrap myself in the wind's leaves, sprouting wings around my body and I fly, roaming countries and times, not caring about the last time, for whenever autumn arrives I go back to where I was, I take back Paris from the beginning... as she unwinds the threads of her loom to re-weave... This is how I will remain, and every time Paris makes me feel that I am growing older, and never getting old, waiting for the next age forever." We always get a small amount from life, which is our share that we are compulsively content with, but when we turn it into a full life with Parisian culture and an Arab mind, that is what these papers wrote; Let us gather from its words the life of the author, and calculate his share of Paris... of life.
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