"To realize that all your life,you know, all your love, all your hate, all your memory, all your pain it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream. A dream that you had inside a locked room. A dream about being a person. And like a lot of dreams there's a monster at the end of it."
نايم في أوضتي عينيا مفتوحة و فـ قلبي جرح وروحي مدبوحة كان نفسي أشاور بإيدي على أي جرح قديم وأقول: خلاص، ما بقيتش أحس بوجع في الحتة دي م الروح كان نفسي أكدب، بس مش باعرف أبتسم، بس مش قادر أنهار، بس مش مسموح..
Why, mother, nothing happens as we wish? Why? Why does one have to rot in silence torn between pain and desire? Why did I live my life in exile. Tell me mother, why can't one learn to love?