His voice nearly choked as he described his last moments in the city of flowers, slipping away under the cover of darkness to the unknown.

He looked more miserable than any human on earth, slowly raising his head without uttering a word. I turned to him and said, "Well... this is what you want! But why do your comrades write their memoirs and glorify their deeds, as if they did not contribute to the loss of Palestine?"

I sighed with relief, relaxed in my seat, and began to talk about his comrades' memoirs that did not mention him, though he had once been their leader.

Fadel grew weary of my words, and I looked at him with admiration for what he had done for my country, and I told him with words filled with emotion, "You will not remain forgotten forever, I promise to write about you one day."

I placed both my hands on my chest as a gesture of oath, and his eyes darkened with a heavy cloud touched by a tear trapped in his eyes, as if he did not want to speak.