Whenever I see a bus, I recall his shape; the shape of the dark, skinny man. It was as if I had never parted with him in the city of dust and fatigue. We read about the great dreams and the woman who will lead us to the light. There was something pushing us to run, like beasts that caught the magic of André Breton. We understood that surrealism frees the mind, philosophies, and politics from stagnation. We also realized the path to the renewable revolution through Trotsky and Rosa Luxemburg's biography, and then we wore Che Guevara T-shirts Here, we are like ghosts roaming in the world, remembering cruelly our trembling fate. And there is unfinished talk about Ziad Abbas, Adam Hatim, Jamil Hatmal, Ahmad Seiman, and Dona Fadel. Perhaps we are still alive. Perhaps I still remember.