جاده، در شهر

"...

They passed through the city at noon of the day following. He kept the pistol to hand on the folded tarp on top of the cart. He kept the boy close to his side. The city was mostly burned. No sign of life. Cars in the street caked with ash, everything covered with ash and dust. Fossil tracks in the dried sludge. A corpse in a doorway dried to leather. Grimacing at the day. He pulled the boy closer. Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that.

   You forget some things, don't you?

   Yes. You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget.

..."

The Road...Cormac McCarthy

پ.ن: من هنوز باور دارم شهرها را رؤیاها خراب می کنند، مصطفی. و یقینا در هر شهری مردی هست که آوازه ی شلوار کُردی اش، اشک حسرت در چشمان حضار جاری می کند.

"پشت این دیواره های ذهن، شهری هست؟ نیست!..."