Riyadh Literature

False notion: my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.
Erudition & Politeness 🆚 Uninformed & Barbarianism
@R_B_publishing @RiyadhCriticism @RiyadhPoetry

[Riyadh Literature @RiyadhLiterary]

#MyFirstTweet
It is not necessary to burn #books, #article;s, & ban #author;s in order to destroy a #culture. It is enough to keep #people busy with trivial matters & prevent them from #reading them.
🤝#Genteelness & #Politeness
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[jack @jack]

just setting up my twttr

[Riyadh Literature @RiyadhLiterary]

Don Quixote entered as a knight,
found the mic was no platform,
but a clown’s bell.

Some platforms do not give #voice;
they rent impulse with praise.

Not every #mic is a platform,
not every praise is recognition,
and not every “knight” is meant to win.
https://t.co/sJWCykw2JB

[Riyadh Translate | “رِيَاض التَرْجَمة” @RiyadhTranslate]

4⃣ Scene Two:🎙️🛡️📱
When the Knight Don Quixote Became Content in a Space

Don Quixote was not weak before swords, nor before the wind, nor even before windmills when windmills were honest enough to turn in the fields. But he was weak before a single sentence that reached him privately from an account with a profile picture half mysterious, half alluring:

“Your voice is different, knight. We need you with us tonight.” ✨🎙️

He read it once, then twice, then stood up as if he had received an invitation from the council of the world’s sages.

He said to Nuqayt ibn Tamrir:

“Philosophy has called me.” 🧐

Nuqayt approached the screen, read the message, then said:

“My lord, this is not philosophy. This is a co-host in a Space called The Last Fortress of Awareness, and her profile picture has been carefully chosen to look as if she knows the secrets of the universe.”

Don Quixote said:

“And what is the difference?”

Nuqayt said:

“The difference is that philosophy does not message you from a profile picture that is half mysterious, half alluring.” 😐

Don Quixote did not hear him. He had already grabbed his helmet, polished his spear, and looked at Hafhoof sleeping in the corner.

“Wake up, Hafhoof. Tonight we are not fighting the trend. Tonight we rise to the mic.” ⚔️🎙️

Hafhoof opened one eye, then quickly closed it again. He knew that the mic was longer than the spear, and that battles that begin with the phrase “a brief intervention” do not end before dawn. 🐴😩

The message was from Shamlaq bint Profile, a famous co-host in X Spaces. Her voice was soft, as if it walked on tiptoe, and her avatar revealed nothing fully and hid nothing completely: half shadow, half temptation, half wisdom, and half a question that needed no answer. 👁️✨

Shamlaq was not evil in the old sense. She was not a sorceress living in a castle, nor a princess waiting for a knight. She was something more complex: she knew how to give a man the feeling that he mattered without promising him anything clear. She knew that some knights do not need a horse in order to charge forward; one sentence is enough:

“Your presence makes a difference.”

Nuqayt said:

“My lord, be careful. This is not just an invitation to dialogue. This is an ideological Space. People enter it as opinions and leave it as soldiers.” 🚪🧠

Don Quixote tightened his helmet and said:

“Who said a knight fears castles?”

Nuqayt said:

“This is not a castle, my lord. It is a Space. More dangerous than a castle, because you enter it with your own feet and think you chose the prison yourself.” 📱🔒

Don Quixote entered the Space.

Its name was:

The Last Fortress of Awareness 🏰🔥

The host was Saddah ibn Minbar, a man whose voice was broad as if he were standing on a mountain, though he was most likely lying on a couch. He knew how to open the Space with a sentence that sounded like a declaration of war:

“Free people, we are not here to discuss. We are here to awaken the sleepers.” 🥁

Then he would always add:

“Whoever does not understand this phase is part of the problem.”

The number of listeners was large. The small circles lined up like faces in a cosmic council. Some names had blue badges beside them, some had mysterious pictures, and some had nothing at all. But Don Quixote saw in every circle a head waiting for his wisdom.

The name Shamlaq bint Profile appeared at the top. She spoke in a soft voice:

“Good evening of awareness to everyone. Tonight we have with us a different voice, a knight who does not flatter, a man who said what many failed to say. We welcome Don Quixote.” 🌹🎙️

Don Quixote trembled.

No one had ever told him, “Your voice is different,” except a helmet seller who wanted to get rid of a crooked helmet.

Saddah ibn Minbar said:

“Go ahead, knight. The mic is yours.” 🎙️

The mic icon appeared beside Don Quixote’s name.

He saw it as a glowing sword.

In a voice he tried to make deep, he said:

“Before I begin, we must establish the matter from its roots.”

Hafhoof gasped in the corner. 🐴💔

He knew that the phrase “from its roots” meant the night had just begun.

Don Quixote said:

“We are not living through a platform crisis, but a crisis of meaning. And the platform is not a platform, but an arena. And the arena is not an arena, but a mirror. And the mirror is not a mirror, but an existential question about the human being when he turns into a comment.”

Saddah said:

“Great, knight. Great.” 👏

Saddah had not understood the whole sentence, but he knew that the word “existential” raised the prestige of the Space.

Some of the audience laughed. Some sent fire emojis, some hearts, and some laughing faces. Don Quixote saw the fire as proof that truth was burning, the hearts as allegiance, and the laughter as philosophical applause.

Nuqayt, listening from another device, said:

“My lord, some of them are laughing at you, not with you.”

But Don Quixote was in the third heaven of the mic.

He continued:

“Those who reject our idea do not reject it because it is weak, but because they fear its strength. And those who ask for evidence are sometimes part of the structure of escape from truth.”

Nuqayt whispered:

“Here we go.” 😑

There was a man in the Space named Abu al-Utroohah al-Musta’jalah — Abu the Hasty Thesis. He never entered a Space without saying, “Allow me to establish,” then leaving before the establishment was complete. He raised his hand, but Saddah lowered him temporarily. Tonight was Don Quixote’s night. The new clown had to take his time.

Saddah was not looking for wisdom. He was looking for heat.

And heat in Spaces does not always come from the idea, but from the person who is ready to ignite. 🔥

Don Quixote was perfect:
a noble heart, wide imagination, high sensitivity, and a deep desire to be told, “You matter.”
Saddah said:

“Don Quixote, we want a word from you about the betrayal of the silent.”

Don Quixote straightened up as if they had asked him to explain the meaning of justice before a council of kings.

He said:

“Silence is not neutrality. Silence is sometimes a stab without a sound. Whoever sees the fortress burning and then says, ‘Let me verify the source,’ has chosen to carry water to the enemies of fire.”

Nuqayt commented:

“The sentence is beautiful, but it is a disaster.” 🫠

Saddah applauded with words:

“Wonderful! This should be quoted.”

And indeed, minutes later, Lubabah bint Laqtah clipped the segment, deleted what came before and after it, and placed heroic music over it. Don Quixote appeared in the clip as a prophet of the mic, not as a man confused between verification and betrayal. 🎬✂️

The clip spread.

The Space grew larger.

Marqooq al-Khwarizmi, who stood in the background of the digital world like a circus gatekeeper, wearing a golden headset and carrying a notebook of numbers, rejoiced. He said to himself:

“Truth may be cold, but Don Quixote is excellent for engagement.” 🤖📈

Then he pushed the Space to more listeners.

New accounts entered.
The applause increased.
The laughter increased.
And Don Quixote’s certainty grew that he had finally become a heard philosopher.

Shamlaq bint Profile returned to the mic.
“Don Quixote, honestly, you are not a guest. You are one of us. The cause needs brave voices like yours.” 🌹
His heart stopped for a moment.
“I am one of you?”

She said more softly:

“Of course. Do not stay outside the battle.”

At that moment, he did not ask: What is the cause?
Nor: What are its limits?
Nor: Do you accept criticism?
Nor: Is the idea open to review?
Nor: Why is every opponent among you either asleep, a traitor, or paid?

He only asked:

“And where is my place?” 🛡️

Saddah smiled. He knew he had captured the knight.

He said:
“Your place is with us on the mic, knight. Whenever they try to silence truth, we need your voice.”
Nuqayt said from afar:
“My lord, be careful. Whoever gives you a place before asking about your mind wants to use your voice, not understand you.”
But Don Quixote did not hear. He was busy with Shamlaq’s picture, half mysterious and half alluring, and with her voice saying, “We need you.” To him, that word was an entire castle.

In the following days, Don Quixote became a regular guest in The Last Fortress of Awareness.

Whenever the Space cooled down, Saddah said:

“We want the knight’s comment.”

So Don Quixote would rise.

Whenever engagement fell, Shamlaq said:

“Don Quixote, tell them what they do not want to hear.” 😌🎙️

So he would speak.

Whenever they needed a laugh, they asked him about “digital windmills.”
Whenever they needed fire, they asked him about “the betrayal of the silent.”
Whenever they needed a clip likely to spread, they let him speak until he stumbled into a metaphor, then they clipped it and posted it under the title:

The Knight Lashes the Enemies of Awareness 🔥

The audience laughed.
He thought the laughter was amazement.

They wrote: “Bring him every night 😂”
He read it as: “Do not deprive us of wisdom.”

One evening, Nuqayt said to him:

“My lord, not everyone who asks for you loves you. Sometimes they ask for you because you make the arena less boring.”

Don Quixote said:

“Truth is not spoken without disturbance.”

Nuqayt replied:
“Yes, but they do not want your truth. They want your disturbance.”
Hafhoof was silent, then raised one ear as if applauding Nuqayt. 🐴👏

That night, Don Quixote entered the Space late. Saddah thought the mic was off, but it was not.

Don Quixote heard Saddah say to Shamlaq:
“If engagement drops, bring up Don Quixote. Let him set it on fire. The audience loves him when he mixes up philosophy and chivalry.”

Shamlaq laughed briefly, then said:
“Just do not upset him. Call him our knight.” 😅

Then Marqooq al-Khwarizmi said from somewhere in the background:

“Excellent. The knight raises listening time by forty percent.”

Don Quixote froze.

For the first time, he did not hear the applause.
He heard the string.

He looked at the mic beside his name. It was no longer a sword. It had become a tiny bell around a clown’s neck.

He looked at his helmet. It was no longer a crown. It had become a show hat.

He looked at his spear. It was no longer a weapon. It had become a stick he waved so people would laugh.

Nuqayt said calmly:

“My lord, they did not make you a knight because they believed in your wisdom. They made you a clown because they believed in your usefulness.”

The sentence was harsh, but it was not an insult. It was a mirror.

Shamlaq’s voice returned, this time publicly:

“Is Don Quixote with us? We need your opinion, knight.” 🌹

It was the same word that had lifted him to the sky days earlier.
But now it looked to him like a small bait tied to a long string.

He raised his hand to the mic.

Everyone waited.

Saddah said:
“Go ahead, knight.”

Don Quixote cleared his throat.

They expected a sermon.
They expected fire.
They expected a metaphor about fortresses, windmills, and the last awareness.
Even Hafhoof prepared himself mentally for new suffering. 🐴😩

But Don Quixote said:

“I have only one question.”

The Space fell silent.

Saddah said:

“Go ahead.”

Don Quixote said:

“Do you want my opinion, or do you want my voice when it catches fire?”
No one laughed.

Saddah tried to save the moment:

“Knight, do not be sensitive. We love your passion.”

Don Quixote said:

“Passion is not an argument.”

Shamlaq said in her soft voice:

“Do not be upset. You are bigger than misunderstanding.”
Don Quixote looked at her picture. It was still half mysterious, half alluring. But he saw something he had not seen before: the picture was not a window to truth, but a decorated frame around an impure invitation.
He said:
“A beautiful voice does not make the cage less of a cage.”

Abu the Hasty Thesis gasped and said:

“Allow me to establish the concept of the cage…”

But Hafhoof interrupted him with a sudden neigh from behind Don Quixote. 🐴📢

For the first time in the history of Spaces, the neigh was more concise than the intervention.

Some listeners laughed, but this time the laughter was different. It was not only at Don Quixote, but at the whole circus.

Nuqayt said:

“Leave, my lord.”

Don Quixote looked at the leave button. It was very small. Smaller than the mic, less shiny, and it gave its owner no glory. But at that moment, it was the bravest button on the screen.

He pressed it.

He left the Space.

The room fell silent.

The world did not fall.
Truth was not defeated.
Philosophy did not disappear.
Socrates did not rage in his grave.
And the cause did not die, though the Space had lost its comic segment. 🌿

Don Quixote sat for a long time without speaking.

Nuqayt asked:

“How do you feel?”

Don Quixote said:

“As if I stepped down from a stage I had mistaken for a temple.”

Nuqayt said:

“And that is progress.”

Don Quixote asked:

“Was I a clown?”

Nuqayt was silent for a moment. He did not want to break the knight while he was trying to come out of his armor.

He said:

“You were a knight searching for meaning, and you found someone selling you an audience instead of meaning.”

Don Quixote smiled sadly.

As for Hafhoof, he approached the phone, sniffed it, then pushed it away with his hoof. 🐴📵

The next day, Don Quixote received a new message from Shamlaq bint Profile:

“Your absence was obvious yesterday. The Space lost its soul. We need you tonight.” ✨

Don Quixote read it.
Something small inside him trembled — the part that loved to be wanted.
He looked at Nuqayt.
Then at Hafhoof.
Then at his spear.
He said:
“What do you think, Nuqayt?”

Nuqayt said:

“Ask yourself: Do they want you to think with them, or to spin for them?”

Don Quixote remembered the old windmills. They turned by the wind.

But these Spaces turned by people.

He closed the message without replying.

He did not become perfectly wise. He did not abandon speech. He did not hate all Spaces. But that night, he learned a small rule:

Not every mic is a platform, not every compliment is recognition, and not everyone who calls you “knight” wants you to win. 🛡️🎙️

From that day on, whenever Don Quixote entered a Space, he set his spear aside and carried with him one question:

Am I here to think, or to be used? 🪞

And that question, small as it was, weighed more heavily on Saddah than an hour-long sermon, more heavily on Shamlaq than a profile picture without mystery, and more annoyingly on Marqooq al-Khwarizmi than a quiet Space where no one was shouting.

[Riyadh Philosophy @Riyadh_Wisdom]

In The #Trial, Josef K. fears an accusation that never reveals itself.

The more he defends himself, the more he validates the court.

Kafka writes about the court within.
https://t.co/WMAZZ4ACHg

[BRITTLE PAPER @brittlepaper]

The US Consulate General in Lagos has revoked Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka's visa. The 91-year-old playwright announced this at a press conference on October 23. The consulate cited "additional information" but provided no further explanation.
https://t.co/fpB8ZRvHU0

[Private Eye Magazine @PrivateEyeNews]

“That’s the weird kid I was telling you about”

From the new Private Eye, out now.