al-Ṭayyib Ṣāliḥ

The river was flowing northwards, a long snake wriggling through the desert.

I am no Othello. I am a lie.

Life in this village runs smoothly like the Nile.

It was, gentlemen, after a long absence—seven years, to be exact, during which time I was studying in Europe—that I returned to my people.

The heat of the sun was like a hammer beating down upon an anvil.

I had always been a lie.

The train was like a serpent, its windows gleaming in the light of the setting sun.

The world is a big place and the village is just a small part of it.

There is no room for two men in one woman’s life.

We shall meet at the station, when the train arrives.

I want to take my rightful place in this world.

The past was a mirage, a trick of the mind.