A micro short film by Hisham Abdullah
A dervish stands at a fridge with a broken hand. There are other figures sticking around him for years. They gather from the world over, chilling out of the tropical heat. The dervish is the only one spinning. Sometimes I notice him; usually I’m too occupied or hungry to get food from the fridge. But the dervish is always there dancing night and day, when I sleep or go out to work. I forgot how he lost his hand; a kid might have grabbed his beard and dropped him on the floor. I thought of throwing him away. Maybe his neighbours are embarassed of him; but I notice they are also broken, one way or another. So I kept him. When the world is torn apart I look to the dervish and remember the beautiful places I had been to. The dervish never speaks, whirling away from the world.