We can argue about the authors' proportions regarding the composition of the drama. If you’re not a believer, then you write it alone, if you’re a bigot, just God writes alone, but I’m in the middle. I consider Him the writer and I perform the piece. I discuss with Him how He thought, sometimes I don’t accept and change the scenario, then I fail. Finally, I follow His advice and gain little successes.

But it's not that simple. In your life many of those come, who criticize the piece, intervene, and add passages to it. Some people want to rewrite it all! Your spouse goes even further. He/she wants you to perform his/her piece as well while playing your own! If you can’t do that and you are hissed off the stage, then you’re the responsible alone! Also, your employer puts a text in your hand every day, that doesn’t fit your scenario. You’re depressed in the evening because you have to turn against yourself. However, you play the game every day the way he wants, as you have no other choice. And if you’re a character who chip into the lives of others, then you’re the one who performs the drama and you force the same on the one who plays from a completely different genre scenario. You don't even appreciate reading it, talking to him/her. You immediately make comments, cross out the text, and demand a change of style from him/her. I could go on with a thousand more variations and I think you could add some more from your own life, too.

Now I've touched a very small section of space and time. I mean just the tiny era in which you live and the place where you have to meet social norms. I don’t even mention those who want to grab you out of time and want to push you back a thousand years earlier when “everything worked well”.
They just forget that it worked well because then HUMANS were still living on earth and not biowastes like today. I mean that not only in a physical, but also in a spiritual sense. Of course, I include myself in that aggregation, too.
As we contemplate about the past, our train rushes fast towards the future. Gradually, we do not eat meat of animals, but meat what is produced from a few cells by tissue cultures, which is also programmed to have a particular composition with a disease-curing or possibly mood-enhancing effect. 5G is released, which makes wonders in IT, but at the same time it tunes our electromagnetic fields and we don’t even realize what manipulations can happen through it. Tuning of these fields means the tuning of man at the same time, don't forget! Meanwhile, Bill Gates wants to vaccinate the whole world with a shit that only he knows what is it. However, he certainly wouldn't want it if it wasn't good for him. And what the fuck is that shit? What is the goal? To save us from death? To rewrite our fate? And here we've got back to the writer-performer career from where we started.

With this little trip, I wanted to shed light on the fact that those who add passages to our pieces, or may want to rewrite it radically, can’t even give answer the questions that arise along the way. There is no answer to artificial meat, artificial food, while Halal seal is issued for everything, when the money is paid. There is no response to the humanoid life where will be no free will. If no free will, how will God judge us? There is no response to the serums and consumer goods imposed to us. There is virtually no response to the conflicts that surround us in this era. If there is an answer, it is also a detour. Some answers direct me to the realm of science. Of which performance of that science should I accept? Why is considered the science that makes earth devastated and makes human life on it unviable, as audited? I am talking not only about physical inevitability, but also about mental shriveling and distortion. After all, how to believe that this science serves me? The other answer is time travel. If Bill Gates stabs with the injection needle, they will find Hadith, about the Prophet what he did (peace be upon him) when he was stabbed by a thorn. Adequate answer, right? These are the two seas that surround us. We are trapped between ignorance and the science that makes profit for others and is not serving our benefit. If the two seas of the Quran were to be interpreted today, the following verses might have to be placed in the above-mentioned context:

He has let free the two bodies of flowing water, meeting together: (Quran 55:19)

Between them is a Barrier which they do not transgress: (Quran 55:20)

Once I was a wealthy person with influence. If there is money, there is woman, friendship, adventures. I was always paddling in one of the two seas and that ensured an earthly prosperity. This is the past. God reversed my destiny. I
am left alone. My children have been away from me, which is just a physical distance, as one can keep in touch with everybody with today’s devices. All wealth I have I can take on myself every morning. I live out of the kindness of friends. I cannot maintain myself alone. There is no-one who makes me coffee in the morning, no-one talks to me and nobody makes a loving glance while touching my hand. For many years, this deficiency has plagued my interior.
But I realized that fate should not be lived that way. As for the corrosive deficiency, it may be is for my benefit. Perhaps if someone was sleeping next to me in my bed and I turned on the light at night to write an article, she would ream my ass out because the lamp bothers her eyes while she is going to sleep. When she gets up, she'd put a wish list in my hand for what to do that day. She would quarrel if I was thinking something differently, then she would turn hysteric due to the lack of money while her mother is in the hospital and everything would start all over again. I'm sorry, ladies, this has been written in a misogynistic style so far, but the same can be performed in a manner where males are bad.
And so, I can write night and day, at any time I get inspiration and I can pass on everything what I’ve collected in my brain for a lifetime. I'm not going to pass away and the many messages fall in trap inside me and I cannot tell those out. Hamdulillah! I can talk to my children for hours, I can put on my holey stockings, my worn-out pants, I can sit at the edge of my bed so that no one fucks me for what the hell I'm doing there, while I can think of my Lord, asking Him: O, my Lord! Be only You the Writer of my piece!