What is hidden is greater

Author's name: M. Jamal Al-Masalma

One pleasant summer evening, the sun was about to set in its boudoir, draped in its beautiful purple robe, leaving behind a veil of red twilight on the edges of the sky, when the last passenger got off a minibus in the town of Al-Waer, his back bent, his head bowed in his shabby clothes, his hair disheveled, his chin hanging down, in which the white had predominated over the black, and his eyes looked like two broken, reddish squints. He took a few confused steps away from the bus, then stood, his face marked with chronic fear and a sudden confusion overtaking him, placing the sun to his left, and everything around him seemed strange. He approached an old man among the passersby, with a hoarse voice and a faltering tongue, and asked him...