Aber Sarir | Ahlam Mestaghanmi

All I know is that since I left Algeria I have not been the journalist nor the photographer that I used to be. Have you become a hero in a novel, or in a movie, living on a sudden precipice? Ready for something.. for emergency joy or for an upcoming catastrophe. We are the ones who scattered Constantine, here we are dating in the capitals of sadness and the outskirts of Parisian fear. Even before we met, I grieved for Nasser, for a name too big to be a guest in the outskirts of history, because his father did not inherit anything other than his name, and because some people made of the homeland a real estate property for their children, and ran the country as he runs a family farm that raises murderers in its ruins. While the honorable homeland is homeless in exile. Jamil Nasser, as I imagined it was. It was nice to meet him, and a hug from him in which I embraced history and love together, for he was half pure and half life. His apartment was simply furnished with warmth, replacing beautiful furniture for some loss, and who used the Constantinian music to cover his internal aspects... I asked Nasser about his news and about his travels from Germany to Paris, if he found hardship in him.