Now I remember the pain that the monster triggered when it grew up in my tummy. My tummy is little. It stayed little despite the monster but it became painful. I suspected it was the foetus I’ve always wanted. I found out later that tumours behave like foetus to disguise.

Suspicion remains suspicion, and the small new clot is now moving. With movement comes a feeling of fullness.

Suddenly life seemed more serious. Reality became heavier. There, in Iraq, absurdity seemed clearer. The little new monster installed itself and insipidness inside me, deprived me of taste.

“For two years, the conflict has been challenging our intellectual capacities and our ability to rationalise what is happening. Some of us surrendered and quit the conflict because their intellectual tools and their grasp were too rigid to accommodate what was happening. The conflict caused them an intellectual pain.

We realise this challenge everyday, we realise our need for more flexible approaches that allow us to give this terrible agony a human meaning, to control it and to develop an intellectual defense against it.

We would fall apart if we don’t.

We can and we cannot.

This is one aspect of our great struggle.

Our life had been dangerous, not guaranteed, and painful but it’d got meaning during these two years.”

I couldn’t find more eloquent words than Yassin Haj Saleh’s to describe two years of the life of the Syrian revolution and of my cancer.

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