I learned to drive a car for the case that I would need to flee. A wise thought for that time, which I dropped later as driving proved to be more dangerous than what I needed to save myself from. Then the car was burnt by angry people and I did not have to think about driving anymore. The mobilization of the people of the Arabic nations imposed a certain silence, out of respect. Words in the languages that I know became irrelevant; there was no time to learn the right sounds. So I put myself in mute and counted the days of their revolution with threads. The counting still goes on, heavier I fear.