We sold our souls to get him… in the bed of a Spanish hooker

bed of roses

When you think of good sleep, you think of IKEA. Do you know feng shui and vastu shastra? Do you know what energy flow is? Do you know how Ali bin Abi Talib slept in the Prophet’s bed and used his sheets and coffee made in Starbucks?

All our products are made from natural materials: rubber milk from the rainforests, skins of semi-extinct animals, pig fat (but halal), tree branches from the jungles of Kenya, human skins, hair and hanging balls (don’t be afraid), they are all hygienically treated and free of chemicals) hardwood And organic cotton, i.e. everything that will guarantee you a comfortable and eternal sleep, just join our wars for liberation. One world, one company, one board.

The bed is the most important piece of furniture in the house and people may have sold their souls to get a bed, and the higher and the bigger the size, the more important the person and his social position, and any new groom attaches the utmost . importance to the material of the bed more than the “material” of the woman who sleeps on it, he must perform all the “operations” that prove his masculinity and domestic centrality, and if it was previously the privilege of the rich, the Industrial Revolution expanded it with cheap items, such as iron and pressed wood, making it available to everyone. The pasha lay on his bed like any janitor or actual laborer, and even died on the same bed in an astonishing class that disappears.

We slept in the beds of gamblers who played cards of fortune for our lives, and we woke to find ourselves the king of someone other than ourselves, the king of a god other than the one “there is no god but He, the Life and the Eternal.” We put Ayat al-Kursi on a bed in a dung heap, in the camps and on the rough paths, we stood and sat down to sleep, we slept menstruating and slept barren and slept as if without eyelids… metaphor

From the point of view of the history of civilization, the bed and the group of tissues attached to it form a constant element. The bed in it has been the scene of many stories, most of which are related to betrayal, intrigue, secrets and intimacy, serving as ‘ a small space, as a small house, as a space for the daily and the infinite. On a bed Scheherazade sat, and Shahryar sat by her, kings ruled vast territories while on the beds. The bed receives the newborn baby and bids farewell to the dead, renewing the protest against domination, as it represents compliance with the power, and while the chaotic bed represents a negative connotation of the nature of the person, the tidy bed is associated with geometry and organization.

“Mohamed Darius, the second room in the third wing”…

I entered the room cautiously rabbit expecting cats. I happened to enter the breakfast canon. It was a narrow room, lighted by a yellow lamp, and it contained more than seventy people, most of whom were fasting and wanted to break their fast at the same moment. God could be angry if he placed a Syrian slave in a prison notes on the outskirts of Damascus, which was a minute late for breakfast. I stood looking for a place to put my few bags of stuff. “New?” said Abu Ahmed, who I later learned was the president of the chamber. I said yes”. “Find yourself a place to sleep, near the toilets or on the kitchen table,” he said. I said, “I want a bed.” looked at. As he looked at the dirty bag I used to put down my personal belongings, he looked at the nine people gathered around him, ready to dip their hands on one plate: “A bed? It’s easier to get Aisha here than to find a bed.” They disappeared in a group laugh that echoed in the other rooms.

In 1882, Maupassant wrote: “The bed, my friend, is our whole life. It is where we are born, it is where we love, it is where we die. If I had the pen of Cribellion (French playwright) , I would write a story.” A bed. And what touching, awe-inspiring, and also graceful, adventures, like so many touching adventures! What lessons can we draw from this for everyone? You know my bed my friend. You will never imagine how many things I have discovered there in the last three days and how much I love her. It seems to me haunted, haunted, I say, by many people whom I did not suspect, and who nevertheless left something of themselves in this class.”

The whole world is divided between those who sleep on beds and those who sleep on the floor, and of the two sections are divided into smaller sections with other details, related to the first section: the beds big, small, high, surrounded by copper pillars and covered with transparent white wings, mattresses filled with feathers, wool or light cotton Or a compressed sponge, and as for those who sleep on the floor, there are those who do not even find a rough, finger-thick insulation to sleep on don’t sleep , stone beds barely an inch or two above the ground, and hardly distinguishable from the graves, but you also die like everyone else, you die like a dead dog and are buried like him.

“Why does he look like that? (points to my penis) like he’s wearing a baseball cap?” said the Spanish courtesan. I said, “He was an officer in the Syrian army.” “Do all officers wear the same helmet?” she said. I said, “Only smart people, like him.” She said, “Is he smart?” I said, “He knew how to get into your pussy, didn’t he?” She said: “Are you a Jew? I mean, I have no objection to all religions, I even slept with a Muslim once, but I believe it.”

Ulysses lay on his bed with Penelope to tell her of his journey, and she changed the bed to test whether he knew their previous bed, the marriage bed, and the bed comes here as another metaphor, a metaphor for general marital activity. … is this permissible?

I said: “Do you see this fifty euro note? Do you memorize (peace be upon you, Mary)?” She said, “Yes, yes. Leave me this nonsense. I’ll sleep with you even if I’m a monkey. I know I’m selling my body and I’m not selling the Ten Commandments, but you can be a Jew too , or even an Arab. I don’t care as long as you are clean. But you are circumcised like Jews.” I said, “I’m just an immigrant.” She said: “Me too, my grandfather came from a small town called Latakia on the Mediterranean, fleeing poverty and religious tyranny. He was, as my father told me, from a small Gnostic religious sect called the Alawites. Have you heard of them. ?” I said, “Oh, Mierda.”

The interesting thing about it is that it’s not a real bed, it’s just a place where someone’s soul is caught, a place that could be the shadow of a tree or a moat or a rapid edge, and it is also a time, a period that a person spends before leaving the world, and then life begins to pass, achievements, failed battles And the winner, the children that the person failed to raise or even to have

Ulysses made a first bed to hide on the island of Cherry from the wrath of Poseidon, he made it of olive leaves and covered it with them until he became part of it, choosing to leave his manhood as a skilled warrior behind the green leaves, in the first bed, and this bed is a metaphor for fear, avoidance of exposure, that is, the opposite of the bed on the floor to appear and the bragging rights above, when a man for example with a woman is, and as he himself did again when he lay on his bed with Penelope to tell her of his journey, she changed the bed to test whether he knew their former bed, the marriage bed, and came The bed here is another metaphor, a metaphor for joint marriage bed. activity, so he said, with all the foolishness of men: “Woman, who has moved my bed from its place?”

We have slept in the beds of the immortals, in the footprints of their bodies on embroidered blankets, we have left our homes in haste, and our beds have not yet awakened.

On a bed Scheherazade sat, and Shahryar sat by her, kings ruled vast territories while on the beds. The bed receives the newborn baby and bids farewell to the dead, renewing the protest against domination, as it represents compliance with the power, and while the chaotic bed represents a negative connotation of the nature of the person, the tidy bed is associated with geometry and organization … Metaphor

We slept in the beds of our enemies, in their pity, in their disgust at our horrible smell, we slept in the beds of animals, and as Syrians we found all the beds fit for our mutilated bodies, in the beds of the lawyers. we slept and in their greedy gifts, in the beds of matches and in cans of dried tomatoes. And when night comes every evening, sleeps javana, “Lord of the Virtues.” We slept in the beds of greed and sorrow, fear and sadness, of vanity and brokenness, without a last loaf and cup of tea, we slept as if someone did not want to wake up and woke up as if they did not sleep, we slept with open eyes and closed hearts.

We found beds for our children from other fathers, and our wives found husbands in their beds, and we waited like servants for the end of the rape of our wives on the beds of glory, while we carried towels for the master who raped, got angry, then raped and satisfied.

Desperate to get their husbands back to the virility laboratory, we women were satisfied and sent us to hide our white humiliation and our dark shame in ration coupons.

We have also slept in dead beds: the corpse wakes up to make room for another corpse and the dead wake up with slumped shoulders. We slept in the beds of gamblers who played cards of fortune for our lives, and we woke to find ourselves the king of someone other than ourselves, the king of a god other than the one “there is no god but He, the Life and the Eternal.”

We put Ayat al-Kursi on a bed in a dung heap, in the camps and on the rough paths, we slept standing and sitting, we slept menstruating and we slept barren, and we slept as if without eyelids. We slept in our naked despair and naked fear, moving from the bed of one tyrant to the bed of another, our bodies covered only by the desire to wipe out and summer clothes we stole from emergency clothing.

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