Extraits

"If only there were an elixir for the memory, something that could bring events back in the order they happened, one by one, then tum them into words that would cascade out onto paper!"

Perhaps I might, at this point, resort to these words Walid Masoud so often repeated in his last months. However much we fight against it, we remain the playthings of our memories. We are, at one and the same time, their products and their victims. Rightly or wrongly, they obsess us, sweetening the bitterness, deluding us and consuming our souls with sighs. How are we to capture these inverted dreams that both freeze the past and release it-these images scattered, at times, like clouds over the expanses of the mind, like precious diamonds compressed within the folds of the soul!