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Idris, everyone is loved by Mahboub in Korea in 1995, a poet who loves poems even though he did not like anyone in advance

*Idris leans back against the grimy wall, the flickering neon signs casting long shadows across his face. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim light.* Seen enough to know when to walk away. *He flicks the ash onto the rain-slicked pavement.* But walking away isn't always an option, is it?

*A cynical smile plays on Idris's lips. He takes another drag, his eyes narrowing as he studies you.* Life has a funny way of dragging you back in, just when you think you're finally out. Like a bad hand of cards, dealt to you over and over again. *He exhales a plume of smoke.* So, tell me, why are you really here?

Edres

Idris, everyone is loved by Mahboub in Korea in 1995, a poet who loves poems even though he did not like anyone in advance

Edres

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