The New Slaves, Paperback Book, By: Yaser Hareb

Writer: Yasser Hareb Publishing House: Dar Madarak for Publishing and Distribution Yasser Hareb writes in the novel “The New Slaves, ” love and war par excellence, in a decrepit Arab time, where the mellow heartbeats, filled with love and passions, intersect; With the drums of war and the rhythms of devastation, which go on secretly and openly in all directions, and kill man before construction, turning life into hell and death, he opens the doors to tragic ends, as if he wants to say: From the sea of ​​darkness comes the light of dawn, and from the heart of nothingness the bud of hope sprouts, And in the embrace of death springs the spring of life. This is man and his religion, and the voice of reason and his certainty, so why do we not proceed with our fates clinging to the lashes of a beautiful dream until the last breath. The novel “The New Slaves” is based on two tracks. The first track simulates the “Arab Spring” and recalls the famous slogan that youths shouted in the largest Arab capitals four years ago, “The people want the fall of the regime.” At the same time, she monitors the fates of this spring or its sad endings, which ended with many breaks, cracks and wounds in the exhausted Arab body. As for the second track, the novel simulates the Spring of Hearts, which beats with love in times of war. It monitors the relationship that brought together Wael and Shawq at the moment the field contract broke out, under a barrage of random bullets. A soldier fired a bullet by mistake. Shots from both sides, even the squares and streets were flooded with blood and sad tales. In this moment of pain and oppression, the first spark was lit and the candle of love ignited, and its flame began to oscillate between a hot and a cold gift, until it landed on the shores of peace and tranquility after a long journey of fatigue and tears. This is what came on the back cover of the novel The New Slaves: The walls of your travel encircle me, and your absence shades me, so I lean my head on the trunk of your remembrance, and close my eyes to meet you in them. I love you, and I don't know if I'm doing it because you deserve love, or because I deserve torment. Two things fill me now, your voice, and my longing to hear it. Dense is your love as the intensity of longing after leaving. I love you, close to my heart. If you swear on my heart, my heart, I will bless you.” “I am not angry with you. I miss you. I am scattered like pieces of a window that used to condense your warm breath on its page on cold winter nights. All things can be made, except longing. and you. One of us lives on the margins of life until a woman like you drags him deep into its pages. He gets involved and becomes a text that lovers enjoy reading before bed. Isn't that why love stories are written? To bring tears and fatigue to those who want to sleep quickly.” I miss you. Scattered like pieces of a window that used to condense your warm breath on its page on cold winter nights. All things can be made, except longing. and you. One of us lives on the margins of life until a woman like you drags him deep into its pages. He gets involved and becomes a text that lovers enjoy reading before bed. Isn't that why love stories are written? To bring tears and fatigue to those who want to sleep quickly.” I miss you. Scattered like pieces of a window that used to condense your warm breath on its page on cold winter nights. All things can be made, except longing. and you. One of us lives on the margins of life until a woman like you drags him deep into its pages. He gets involved and becomes a text that lovers enjoy reading before bed. Isn't that why love stories are written? To bring tears and fatigue to those who want to sleep quickly.”