"Exile began to teach you the paradoxes of life and its practices," whispered Majid to Thuraya at the dock of the Land of "Qareen." I don't know when she could understand the meaning of this paradox and how she really began to practice it. He whispered warmly and gently, and Osama, close to him, noticed his words, happy to meet him, following his steps. Later, he hinted some of these implications to Noura. Thus, exile created two paradoxes in our souls and memories; they might be close, but the real practice overcame them. When? Where? Why? It is the elusive departure at the rusty walls of life, with all its consequences and paths. Memories continue to storm our small dreams and innocent wishes. Our lives are held by the unknown or the unconscious, shaped by our destinies, even if we are not embraced by a warm womb extending love and mercy. We were like the pulse of a bird's heartbeat flying in the alien sky, drawing rosy dreams on its sands, embellishing it with pink lights towards its sky.