"O Boularwah. O Boularwah. He opened his eyes. All the city's children are gathering at the entrances to the bridge. Ibn Badis is with them too, they want my land, they want to snatch my land from me. No. No. Go to Europe. Leave this city. Emigrate to Annaba, Skikda, and Oran, for there are the huge factories, and there is the flat land. Emigrate, for here it will quake, Sidi Rached will make it quake. I have agreed with him on that. Go, I will not give you my land. I will register it to Ammar, Tahar, Abd al-Qadir, and al-Rizq on the condition that they do not possess it until after my death, and that they do not sell it to anyone other than Boularwah. The heat. The suffocation. The liquid substance. The dark color. The knocking on the bridge, on the door. Who's there? Who's there? Sarah! You did not die because you are barren. The day you die, you end once and for all. You will be buried with desire, longing, and darkness. Let's kill him before we adopt him. Let's kill him as a Muslim, let's kill him as a Jew, let's kill him as a Christian. Strangle his first soul, and I will strangle the rest of his souls. Do not sin, Sarah, how much your people have sinned, for the house is the house of God, and God wants a prayer place for all peoples. Open the windows and do not stand behind them. Everything belongs to God, and God gives it to His righteous servants. Come back, Sarah, come back. Ah. You are not in the trench, nor in the trench, nor on the bridge, you are outside the earthquake, Sarah, because you and your people have made a mistake. You scorned history. You left and left the nobles alone. And you will continue to leave and leave the nobles alone. You will die the day desire dies in you, and you will be shaken the day desire is born in you. You are doomed, and your people, and colonialism, and the nobles, O Sarah. O Boularwah, they are getting closer. They were indeed getting closer. The air bridge was filling up from both sides. Some were children. Some were adults. Sheikh Ben Badis was with them. Issa Boularwah was with them. They are advancing, they are advancing. The singing rises: The embellished words have lost their taste. And the glittering letter has lost its sharpness. The fire ignites. The liquid substance flows. The darkness is extinguished. O Biskra woman, O daughter of Uqba ibn Nafi, lend me your epilepsy. Take my epilepsy from me. Weep for me before I throw myself from the top of the bridge. Weep for every 'Boularwah'."

• Publishing House: Arab Scientific Publishers, Inc. - Lebanon
• Author: Tahar Wattar
• Year of Publication: 2007
• Number of Pages: 198
• ISBN: 9789953872476
• Cover Type: Paperback