Do not be deceived by the short clips and their attractive titles that Bilal chose to inform us of the world’s abandonment of us, as cutting the hoax will not eliminate the suffocation. Because, despite the writer’s deliberation for what remains of our cohesion and our hopes, we will suffocate with every little syllable, a little suffocation. Before the world deserted us, it strangled us, or strangled us by deserting us.
“There is no place for the poor in this world,” he declares to us. If the world had not yet deserted us, the reality of the situation would be that there is no place for poverty in the world, and not for the poor. This world created the poor and the homeless, then crushed them and removed them from the world of pet faces, similar costumes, and perfumes that cover the smells of bodies and their entrails. This world is controlled by a handful of elites. The camp of the healthy versus the camp of people who do not have time to follow a regime that keeps them healthy. Camp for Nike and Levi’s collectors, versus Camp Gucci and Tiffany. Camp “Ferrari” versus Camp “Tida” and “Nissan”. The latest iPhone camp, opposite the mobile phone waste camp. The camp of consumers versus the destitute who have lost their status as citizens without ever earning their right to be consumers… They are only gasping for air.
In short, it is the world of those breathless to remain a part of it, as opposed to those who sit on the throne of its rotation.
The writer reminds us that we don’t have time, except to work like machines, and then get tired and sleep. We look and we don’t see, we go out and we don’t communicate, we run around constantly, trying to keep up with the world that doesn’t care about us, and strives to dispense with us, and to keep the electors who own the public spaces and make the laws. The world wants to cleanse itself of us, by turning away from us and abandoning it to us, as a spot of light receding to cover a smaller part of the space it used to cover, and we become outside of it, we become outside of it, and we were probably never inside that spot of light.
We needed passwords, to remain within the scene that we were sure that our relentless jogging would not achieve the goal of staying in its light or returning to it.
We needed cross codes, to keep our bodies pure, free from defects and unused, codes to be able to use the right words and phrases, and codes to keep up with the advancements in technology.
All these codes will not benefit us, because we are not among the elites who inherited their right, their space and their shares from this world. And they succeeded in kicking us out of it because we are just an excess burden.
This world has become a club, and its membership is limited and confined to whales. Membership they receive at birth, as an acquired right. No new members can enter it, except through emergency links that bring them together with the old members. The members who want to save the planet and its animals and trees, who have time, are part of the marginalized space of those who have neither time nor opportunity to save themselves.
And because the writer decided to be kind to us, from the moment he chose the title of his book, he left us at the end of the book a glimmer of hope that had paved the way for him in all the sections and sections of the book, which is feelings and feelings, proposing to borrow the means of survival in this world from the woman who managed under the authority The dominant masculinity for centuries developed means of seduction, pulling man from the battlefield to the home that made him the center of human life. The woman who was supposed to be out of the light survived, subjugating the man and his elitist realm. The woman survived, while the world thought he was deserting her. Perhaps if, according to the writer, we handed over the rudder of our boat to the minds of women, or to minds similar to the minds of women, we would have escaped with the joy and pleasure achieved despite the nose of the techniques and what we lost because of them.
The astronomy may help the writer’s wish and compassion. According to astronomical calculations and theories, the world has entered the “Age of Aquarius” to remain in 2160 years, after remaining in the “Age of Pisces” for the same period, which is the duration of each astronomical age. In every astronomical cycle, fundamental changes occur in our planet, and among the changes that will appear in the age of Aquarius that we have entered in the year 2020, according to astronomy: more space for individuality and freedoms, technical excellence and pioneering scientific discoveries, women taking over the reins of power in various fields! So, perhaps the meeting of a woman with the techniques of the age of Aquarius, marks the turning point of this world.
We might also have gasped for this hope (the hope of the writer and the hope of the age of Aquarius), if we had believed in this astrological theory, and if we really believed that the world had not yet been abandoned to us.
Then is this world worth saving it? Is it worth giving him a chance to repeat his courses with no guaranteed results? And what does it mean for the world or some of it to return, after we have left it? Why do we worry and wish for this world to restore some of its sanity to those who will inherit it from us? Why don’t we embrace his cruelty to us and forget to think about improving him for those after us? Perhaps in this way we will be merciful to them as well, by avoiding disappointments like ours.
Reading The World Abandoning Us, it reminded me of my frequent reading of Robert Bresson’s blogs on cinematography. Each blog is a potion that takes me every time and throws me where I’m drowning in the sweetness of an idea. And I could just stick to one blog a day, and stick with it. This is the case of Bilal’s passages and thoughts about the world as he deserts us. Each clip shows the scene from an angle, one can only look at it, neglect the rest of the scenes, and drown in it for a while. Every potion idea, every potion is complete in itself, in its ability to hurt and frighten you as it alerts you, and throws you on a couch mentioned, in one or some blog. At least you will be sure that the world, as it leaves you, will leave you with your sofa. As a result, you get a complete panoramic view inside and out, also an aerial view as if taken from above. Perhaps the same applies to each of his books, when we read any of them separately from the other, or consider them as part of what preceded and follows them.
Perhaps we have to accept that the world has abandoned us. We weren’t one of the lucky ones, neither had time, nor illusions, nor naivety, to expect us, or everyone else, to be equally lucky one day. But if we could cynic, scorn, and belittle everything, and hope that our own in a parallel planet might be luckier than ourselves, that hope might be more realistic than the bet for change. At least we won’t feel abandoned without our knowledge.
This world has deserted us, but before that, it had imprisoned us in its choices that it made for us, deluding us that they are our choices. We have been abandoned by this world, and perhaps with this migration we can claim that we have our freedom away from its light and outside the system. He leaves us, and we delude ourselves that his leaving us was our choice.