Ostrich bird's horn

Peace be upon whoever reads these scraps of paper. I found these pages under the cell mattress. I was looking for something, but I don't know what it is, and it seems I have found it. It seems from these tawny pages that I am "Khaled Yahya," and although I don't know who "Khaled Yahya" is at that empty moment, I believe that these papers belong to me. I am not sure if this is my handwriting or not, but what is written on the papers speaks to my heart, addresses a hidden part of my mind. It is not those horrific events that the writer of the pages went through, but rather his way of writing and his memories that were scattered between one scrap and the next. I am that man, I am Khaled Yahya, and these are my words.