All The Unsent Letters: The Pipe And Water Song Of The Dedicated

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I am Youssef the plumber, the owner of living memory, crowded with streets, houses, pipes, and water tanks... I still remember perfectly all the faucets and pipes that I mastered plumbing in city houses... and networks of pipes are enough to build a large bridge.

My fingerprints are engraved in the pipes of new homes... and in the memory of smelling the smell of cement putty with water and sand in the days of delicious tiredness.

I am a friend of faucets and the godfather of flowing water. I have an overwhelming desire to see atoms of water shining in the sun, and I love the smell of wetness in the soil and herbs.

If I were a storyteller or a novelist, I would write the most beautiful stories and tales in a fresh language, similar to the flow of freshwater when I release it into empty pipes after completion. of installed.

The pipes planted in the walls know me, whenever I feel my presence, the richness of water in their hollows... Celebrating my appearance with a screwdriver. I work all day in wet clothes... When I leave, I leave behind water spots that send coldness in the place, the duality of water and wetness has become a part of my daily life.

Whenever a day passes without me working, I miss the coolness and the pureness of the water. Water is our life, our purity, the secret of existence, and the pleasure of drinking.

Often times the water flows abundantly from the pipes, the place around me is flooded with water, the seas overflow in my room, the rivers flow in them, and the rainwater infiltrates them, so I turn into a splash of water that roams the seas of the world, enjoying the coldness.

I am Youssef the plumber, I gave my life to water, cold, tired pipes, and faucets, one day when I sleep in my grave, my bones will turn into subterranean water seeping into the ground.