Only a single page has given to me to write it. But what is the purpose of writing? I take snake and roll the page. The page turns into ash, no place was empty. I was sure that I have done my work. But early morning the birds’ sounds become loud. I was shocked as to where I should keep them. My coat, hands and container were full of these pages. The inside of birds’ sounds is the taste of tears. I was thinking as to what I should do with them? It comes to my mind yesterday the sea and its dream take and send to me. They also need place. Now I can remember when I was a child. In forest, I was lost after forgetting which way to go. Yesterday suddenly I have seen that forest was in livener’s sheet. I turn my face to him. But he knew me and became my guest. This innocent man who is coming very far then he needs place. I was thinking that I should quit thinking. Still there are many things. Leave others that ‘polanch’ is in outside, his ode never cares the mixture. Always scattered like drop. Like chessman which is running. Without satisfaction. What should I do? Suddenly the snake turns its hand to me and says, “then can’t I get some space?” I see the page, until the snake changes its leather. The leather is in page and is standing outside. Now what should be done? I burn the page. Page and snake’s leather slowly start burning. I have gotten a page. The ash of page is in my hand. I wondered the world is with me. But no one has ‘place’. One hand of ash. Who finishes the rest? This short story by Munir Momen has been translated by Alijan Dilwash. Munir Momen is one of the leading literary figures in modern Balochi literature. He uses modern literary techniques in his writing Published in Daily Times, April 3rd 2018.