Mourid Barghouti died on February 14th

GAZING IN THE mirror, Mourid Barghouti had no problem with himself. He looked all right, and some girls might even find his grey hair attractive. His spectacles were well-made, his temperature precisely 37 degrees. His shirt was ironed, and his shoes did not hurt. There were no cuffs on his wrists, and he had not been fired. He kept his ID papers on him, even at the swimming pool. He had grown used to the presence in his land of the Khaki, the Israeli soldiers of occupation. If his dreams had taken the night train, and the train had crashed with none of them surviving, there was still life after death. But was there life before death?