The Minister’s Fortune Telling

Ahead of the start of every new year, I like to know my "fortune telling"—even though many might disagree with me. I read the horoscopes, check my luck, and perhaps smile while listening to a Coffee Cup Reader, fully aware that none of it is real and that, in the end, it is all inconsequential. Yet, I do it anyway. Not out of belief, but out of a passion for the unknown... or perhaps an attempt to glimpse what the coming year, knocking at our doors, might be hiding.

I found this exact sentiment written with great sincerity in an opinion piece shared on social media by the dear former minister, Anas El-Fiqi—whom I truly consider the best Minister of Information Egypt has ever had. He writes:

"I am a man captivated by foreseeing the future and reading its features, despite my certainty that most of what is said about it is often nothing more than myths, delusions, pure figments of the imagination, or even the interpretations of those who thought they had glimpsed the secrets of hidden worlds. In truth, none of that concerns me much.

Yet, I am still remember the tale of a fortune-teller whispering to me:

'It is your destiny to walk forever in love on the edge of a dagger, to remain lonely as seashells, and sorrowful as willow trees.'

Or an astrologer saying to me:

'Your zodiac sign, my son, shall remain prosperous, surrounded by basil and roses; your crown will remain studded with rubies, and you shall see sustenance, goodness, and prestige beyond all description.'

And so the stories go...

Things that never happened, do not happen, and perhaps will never happen. Nevertheless, I love listening to them, if only for the sake of being reassured that... there is a tomorrow yet to come."

I read his words and felt that he wasn't just speaking about himself, but about all of us. He speaks of that beautiful human contradiction: to be rational, conscious, and aware that it is a myth, yet still lean toward it, if only for a single moment.

We have grown up knowing that most of what we were told about the future never came true. Promises did not arrive as we had envisioned them, and some winds blew against the direction of our ships. We are not searching for a prophecy, nor are we waiting for a miracle. We simply possess passion and curiosity. We want someone to tell us that what is coming will be more beautiful; we want to be infused with hope and optimism. We want a small sentence that says: "Tomorrow is better."

The strange thing is that no matter how much a person ages or how many experiences they accumulate, they never abandon this habit. They never stop asking: What does tomorrow hide for me?

With every new year, we replay the same game: we open a blank page, burden it with more than it can bear, and stand before it with a trembling heart and a shy hope. We simply need a small reason to make us smile as we cross from one year to the next.

Happy New Year to you all, and I pray to God that the coming days will be better.