The Orchestra of Childhood: Memories I Wrote After My Death

About this book

What if a dead man spoke to you? Not to ask your mercy, but to tell you the whole truth, the one the living lack the courage to utter. In "The Orchestra of Childhood," writer Mohamed Sousi opens the rusty gate of the universe to present memoirs born in the very moment breath stopped. These are no cemetery tales nor confessions of a saint, but the scribblings of a soul wandering the corridors of memory, playing a fragmented symphony about a childhood stolen by the hand of time. You will find yourself before a torn film strip, where scenes rush by of a motherhood that was a steadfast oak against the winds, a father "the struggler" who fought not for a medal but for God, who left their lives suddenly in a tractor accident that spilled his blood on the soil. It is the tale of a child who realized early that "the true betrayal is not leaving the homeland but forgetting the scent of roses," and learned that the official grant that arrived after years of wandering was nothing but a cheap price to buy silence over the country's stolen goods. Read this book as if you were opening a coffin filled with secrets — not to weep over the narrator's tragedies, but to find, between the lines of his final letters, the values that alone deserve to be inherited.