After returning from the Eid's prayer, he threw his kaffiyeh on the table that was near the balcony of his apartment, which overlooked the seine river. He took the remote control and went on browsing the satellite channels monotonously. After a while, his fingers stopped fingering the remote control's buttons and he watched the scene silently, remembering Baghdad's streets which he felt, escaping from the spider's thread which was found behind each one refused to join the duty; he remembered Al-Rasheed, Hayfa and Abo-Nawas streets which disguised silently behind the picture and the stumped signs.
He threw his ashtray on the television. Then, he kept kicking the TV trying to dust off his mind basked from the bleeding trash of yesterday that was hanged on it, which kept on living in him even after passing all that time. After finishing his hallucinatory observance, he turned his face to the room's door direction and, suddenly, he saw some people who cut his privacy. They were wearing black clothes, polluted with the war smoke and the cemetery dusty. They took his kaffiyeh from the table, hanged it on his neck and they, subsequently, hanged themselves by it.