The most from life is life itself; and to have it eternally should have been enough. But I have come to learn, amidst the centuries blurring between the years of the past, that what should have, is not always what is. The pain, stretched by time and etched into memories; memories hard to ignore and never forgotten. Is this all Faya has brought for me? Can't she remember those hot nights in Alexandria, staring out the window of our Egypt; our home? Remember how she whispered those sweet lies, sweet like Faya, sweet like Egypt, into my eager ears? Be with me forever, the air hushed. I'll have you forever, the wind hissed. And the centuries, blurring and whispering, hushing and hissing, has brought me nothing but frustration and pain. Can I live a life that I have no will to live?