Albedo

I don't understand the human nature

I understand mine perfectly well, and I thought that is all I needed
Though there is more to life than the company of your own conscience
Human connections, see, lie at the core of the labyrinth of existence
We don't know the way around, so we stumble upon tricky grounds
The way back doesn't matter much,
Whether we sprint or amble in our walk
Nor whether we cross the length as we cry in despair or mumble prayers

It's only when you try to look for someone that you get lost

I tell my heart to "Speak !"
And it does, till it's gratified
I'm glad it grew to have a nature so mild
Usually kind and as fickle as a child
Occasionally brittle when it smells the odor of a lie
Hangs a little at the thought of mischief
And bangs so loud at night at the shutters of my mind's eyes
When it has a thing or two to say
Forbids my mind to switch off the lights and retreat to lay
So I listen, quietly
And I hear the giggles within as it's relieved of the heaviness
Untold lines
Forebodings and hopes
Romantic excursions and broken convictions
Prospect regrets for not having spoken enough, before we left
Hearts are so outright ,man
And human relations aren't akin to a pilgrimage uphill
When hearts are reckoned upon and discerned when they tell
Wish I could grab another being by the shoulder and bid them
To let their hearts rant, bargain in the open on what to give and take
Kick and squall if they want, even kiss and embrace , if needed at all

To just stop being so uptight it puts down their fire

I found it so cleansing and light, though one's emotions would tire

Wish people would tear their chests open for a hand shake

Let their disowned sins run and rollick under the sun
Untie their tongues and scream to the world their stifled thoughts 
Benevolent
Or insolent

But alas,
Hearts are too fragile to be exposed in the open

Though this one doesn't care, the spoiled wretch can't be left alone
Though it got hit a few times, flung by a handful of stones
Grew asthmatic with time, for the air is so rich
With rotten breaths
Of rotten intentions
Of rotten souls
It's gotten old and sickly
When still acting bold and bubbly
Perhaps
Hearts are to be kept prisoners of our rib cages
And another dimension of the labyrinth is woven
From the threads of every word that perishes within,
Unspoken

Strange, you think you pass on like a cloud in midsummer, plain and noiseless.
But sprouts appear where your shadow used to linger..

19th Jan 2014
It feels like time travel, flipping through old stuff..


"Did you know that one can communicate with the infinite blue ? all you need is scribble on the sand what it is you want to tell the waves, and they would leap forward and quickly devour it lest another pair of eyes could steal a glimpse of your private conversation. 
I used to go there to let go of trapped troubles and contemplate the multitude of anonymous footprints on the plane of the shore."

Ich Sterbe

"And if i’m to die before we spend a soft day
Know my final thoughts will be of regret.
If I'm to drown in the deep sea that parts us
I once lived and loved, don’t forget
Give my paintings to Alice
Tell all my good friends
That I didn’t dare
Earn their 
Respect"

I wonder what my final words would be

The last voice to tickle
My ears
Who is going to be the last to bid me farewell
Would they be clowning
Would it be a talk over the phone
Tender, or would I be running off alone
With tears in my eyes, frowning
At what I was told
I wonder
What would be the last scene I behold
A blooming  garden from the windows of a hospital room
The landscape of the earth from the height of a mountain
Is it the face of a lover, the kind countenance of my mother
I wonder and wonder
If people would recall my name ten years after
When i'm long bedded in the cold soil
And the waves of grief and turmoil have taken a rest
Would they
Remember me with smiling eyes
And curved lips, would they
Utter ardent prayers in moonless nights
Wishes heavy in meaning yet
Easy on the tongue, like the quips of kin
Fragments of the day to lighten my tight grave
And my
Sack of sins

Would they
Pay to my memory compelled eulogies that lack essence
Or
Put my share aside when they dole
Would they think of me
When they gaze at a painting that doesn't make any sense

"She would've debased it with guile, that one"

Would they be condoled by my dusty pile of unread books
My violin with rusty screws and profuse Pirastro
Laying on the couch surrounded by pots of agen flowers that I used to sing to
In that bare hall, with echoing walls
Could those who loved me tell that I must've lived with a burning zeal
Yet even more so have longed to leave
As I spaced out lengthily during a meal
Could they have possibly smelt
The smoke coming out of my ears and nostrils
And somehow have known all the way
How I earnestly felt

That I must've loved them more than I have shown

Would they still tag me in old pictures and retell my mirthful stories
Keep my number on their phones
The last of my remainders
A nagging reminder of my fading existanse
Before my soul
Was let free

Would they recall my life for the rest of their lives
Or
Mourn its end for mere seconds ?

And would they

Read these words ,with dread laden

Affable confessions and delightful visions
Insecurities, absurd, late adolescence anxieties stirred
Frolicking in my head
Would they repeat these rhymes in my trembling voice, at moments shaken
At times strong
Fill between the widened lines and empty spaces
The codes and cogent phrases I'll take along
When I'm long

Dead

?

De Profundis

They say your cheeks are mysteriously moist, as you lay
Your lips are rosy, and this faint smile is printed on your face in all obliviousness to the hilarity of world
You would open your eyes occasionally when the room is crowded
Perhaps when your favorite reader recites your favorite Surah on the radio
Or when your mother whispers to you a lullaby from a distant childhood
She
Sounds so grave as she brushes your hair, hung on your brows
The lyrics seem to have escaped the tips of her tongue

You look 
But you don't see

Hey, what's your name, quite friend ?
I shall call thee Prince Whishkin
So what are you thinking about right now, Whishkin ? it can't be bile with that pleasant smile
I shall ask you, you'd understand the meaning of it all better than most of our lot
For we are all blind
Puzzled and confined
You, after all, are the emobidiment of our most horrifying blot
Being stuck in time, frozen on the line wrecks the lain plot, ya see
If I learnt that you opened the eyes of your soul for a bit, I'd awfully be interested to know what you found
Stay, do you wonder how did a stranger, though mind their life they are ought
Have grown such a deep fondness of you
Stops to gaze at you so eloquently from afar, yet daren't step closer
Pray for you to come back from the vortex of nought
Or reach the other shore
Though the pain you'd leave behind is a bottomless bore

I hear they are taking you away, soon

Tired of waiting, I guess

Don't be surprised, we were born impatient
And cases of charity aren't kept for long, when they aren't much copious
Guardians of the patient
Regardless, I'm not that strong to speak in locutions instead of weak metaphors
To face your smile and not shatter into pieces
It mocks my whole existence
My vile breakdowns while working on my thesis
I'm not yet strong to stand in front of your lifeless body
Asking for absolution for my pulsing limbs that write these meek phrases
You stall your fate as you tip-toe on a fine line across the crevice
Though you swing at the faintest wind you still hang in place, in such grace

Refusing to fall

There is a storm of vigor trapped in these lungs and your soul 
Seems to have grown wings

Perhaps
You would pardon my obstinate refusal to call, if you knew my faint will
For your sight would scar this young gill
And it's not your frailty, by all means not my confounded compassion
What torments me in this fashion
As I stare at your vulnerable body, wrapped in a network of lifelines,
The frozen tips of your fingers,
And your head ,so bare
Your graying hair

It's none but your strength, mon cher

A strength that I'd never match, though your chest seems as still as a black forest
And the rim of your cape of victory, I will never catch
Grand and august
An uproarious tempest
Your strength, a presaging wave soaring from the depths
An epic tremor of insurrection, roaring

"There is still life in here"

There is still life in there, and it humbles me

I stare from my place, unbeknownst to you
With lips sealed tight, eyes recording an Iliad before its prime
Frozen in time
Robbed of its solemn rhymes
Its past and future
Its angst and torture
Of the thrum of life, and the finality of mortem
You got nothing but to persevere 
Every second 
Is a life time 
Every breath 
Is a puff of burning obduracy against the chill of death

Pray, tell
How does life become so precious when you we right at the frontier ?
Why are we so ingrate and capricious to realize that there is no price tag
On being alive, no matter how drear
That if we had to decide whether we could reside on a cliff
A square so narrow that there is only room for our feet
With the abyss beneath, the ocean, eternal darkness
Eternal solitude on which you could lengthily brood
For a lifetime, a thousand years, an eternity so queer
That it would've been much better to relish on a promise of tomorrow
Right then and there, than to perish down to our marrows

I gaze at you where my ears could pick the cries of that bleak box
That announces the state of your heart and lungs
And I heave and pant with every morbid round
Though I should've gotten around by now
A little mound up there
A wearisome trip up the hill
A slip down a chasm
A perpetuity in wait for that sound
Chiming my breaths to the rhythm of your beats, profound
Though calm and still
Like an ancient psalm

Hey,

What would I do if you left before I climbed out the pit, Whishkin ?

Note 13

"Anarchy"

Is such a copious word.
I think that's the perfect adjective to describe my current life. I have no recognition of any authority in flesh, and it makes me feel liberated.
It's not...I don't have a despondency for revolution, it's just that I don't like someone chalking the path I need to follow.
"Have to", "Must", "obliged", "Supposed to", these words make me cringe. Inwardly. They make me feel like a prisoner. Like I got no grip on my own life. Iron shackles on my ankles.

A friend of mine once mentioned that this perhaps is due to my struggle at the beginning of my adulthood ..Though I didn't struggle much in the general sense, I could relate to some extent, for there are certain tribulations that make one develop an innate feeling of arrogance ; more accurately, some sort of indifference to whatever shots fired at them later on. I've seen it all already, and people don't surprise me much anymore. Though I'm still a green horn, I've felt things that changed me in ways I can't describe, and seeing that i came through, I no longer allow anyone to make me feel like I'm wanting, like I did it with the aid of luck or pity. It's true that what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger, and makes you look down on it as you stand erect in full glory, shaking off the rubble of your battles. 

If I keep the Lord in my heart, there is no power on this earth that could make me kneel.

I've been called arrogant to my face countless times but I only think it's a kind of self-respect. My way of rewarding myself at my sunken victories, unheard and unwitnessed.

That's the least one owes oneself in this ruthless world that knows no mercy.

If I'm at gunpoint, I'd smile to my cheek bones and kiss the barrel. Pretty poetic and Thespian, I admit, but I know that I'm that kinda person; when push comes to shove I would at least pass on with a dignified air, a grand theatrical act of haughtiness. Prolly would quote Pushkin or say something like, "We shall face again, old sport"

On Vicious Truths

The transition from the usual candid expression on your face to a twisted grimace
Caused a throbbing ache in my chest.

There aren't many things that I regret in this life; the things that I didn't repeat aloud are a few, 
But fewer are the verbal pests that I casually threw,
Their fewness is something of which I'm proud
Being so shrewd and wise to my extreme best.

But once or twice; I could clearly see it. I could read it in their eyes :
Perhaps

They could've done just fine
Without learning that one.

I knew beforehand that what I say comes 10 times affront because I say it ,careless and blunt,
And aim at the festering wound. with a precision so sedulous.
I'm a pragmatic doctor like that.
And I could see that you withheld your tongue for quite a time,
So I looked away because I knew your eyes would be shooting questions

That I didn't want to answer

You know me too well to believe that I meant ill
That I was merely trying to compel your eyes to meet those of a truth that you couldn't bear to find
When it was staring at you
When it was screaming at you,
With tears in its eyes

Won't you stop dancing with lies and acknowledge me

Perhaps the whispers of zealous love have ruined your ears

And I had nothing to lose but our bond if you happen to be so obtuse as to play the weak card of jealousy just to deny the facts that I was trying to shove down your throat
Though it sounds like I gloat of knowing better while I rebuke you, as If I'm trying to say that there are more wrongs
And terrors
In this world than such a..

Such a spec of dirt on a cracked mirror

Don't look so amazed at my brazen ways
I may cast a floodlight at your face, but my only intention was for you to see through the haze of your own denial

You said it's just a story to laugh at but I could see you were hurting
And I didn't want you to suffer
A pain that you didn't need
A pain of a kind too heavy for your shoulders
I could gladly take on the bulk of your revulsion, but I

I can't handle seeing your heart twist in pain on account of another person

Perhaps I easily notice things about you that you try to hide so hard
And I take the matters of fixing you into my hands
Pardon my nonchalant obtrusion ,I just care for you
Too much to let you
Fall apart

So here are some bare truths served without sugar

For now I will allude that he walked away
Because he only wanted your fortune to sway
That stealing your heart was a voracious prelude
And that I'm sorry for breaking it out to you thus
How you happened to waste your time on the wrong beau

You were just too flattered you thought it a destined encounter

You flew on wings of feather and you believed in earnest that you could never
Feel this way again with another
Because you think you are not lovable like that
Because you think you have too many a faults that inspire disgust at the thought
Faults that would halt and drive your potential lovers away

Faults that stop as a bouncer at the doors to your empire

There are things that one cannot say out loud
And the rest of this speech I won't regret swallowing
For I know the minute they part with my lips
I shall spend the rest my life wallowing in guilt

But If I was a man I would have loved you like that
Not despite of, but for all your flaws and your coy ingenuity
I would've wanted to stay, no matter how gay that sounds

Don't you ever let your hate for your flaws makes you think you don't deserve any better

Patience, one broken thing to fix at a time, darling

On Women Trying To Be Men

"Every time I look at you it makes me sad. You are wasting your youth in here"

I just looked at him in amazement. Even in jest, sometimes you can't accept to brush it off with a laugh. It's too...uhm.. crude.

My fellow male graduate students often express their surprise at my desire to pursue a higher degree, with the prospect of getting a PhD. I used to find it absurd, for though it's true there aren't many females around, there is a substantial group of female engineers that I'm personally acquainted with, and could easily fill a hall, it's not something entirely amazing.
I guess that's just the common mentality in the middle east. Girls shouldn't try hard, not because they can't, but because they don't need to.
See, all a girl has to do in order to survive is rely on a man, be it a blood relation or a husband. A notion i can't argue with, honestly, for I'm deeply aware that women can't survive on their own (as contrary to the impression I give - i'm often called a "feminist" (people nowadays make it sound as an insult of sorts).
-You know she's a feminist.
-*gasps* she must be salty over not finding  a man yet
-lolololol
-lolololol

I'm gonna discuss this logically, while trying to contain my disgust and anger.
I just think that times are too hard to rely on one person for financial support and overall stability in the family. It really isn't all about the money , but there are certain situations where you need someone to be supportive of you, for a change, and not wait on your command because they simply  don't know how to act, or don't have the means to. Women didn't step out of their role in society, it's the way society is composed that has changed, and we are just trying to cope.
I don't understand men that try to contain women within the borders of the house; don't you feel a tremendous pressure to be successful and to find a high paying job that could support your mother and sisters that are staying home with no income ?
It's true that it's your responsibility; regardless of the fact that in recent times not all men are successfully capable of doing that, and struggle a great deal with debts and shady business to provide for their dependents, let's assume that you managed to get a degree then get a proper job that you think could be a stepping stone to start a family'; isn't it just too huge for you?
Always being on tiptoes, fearing for your position, constantly chases raises and promotions, perhaps even lie and steal to make sure you don't fall into neediness, perhaps getting stuck in a job or an environment that slowly kills you over the years, makes you look 20 years older

Sucks the life of you, because someone else and your herd of kids are entirely dependent on you and have no one else in the world.

It's cool if you want to be the sole provider for your family due to a clear conviction that domestic roles should be properly assigned, but really, there is a slight difference between a sense of duty and egotism. Some species I've encountered don't even feel the need to hide it;
A woman with a job means a woman with liquidation. A woman with free liquidation at her disposal is a powerful woman, and a powerful woman is a woman you can't count on her sticking around if she doesn't like it around.
In some cultures, people (even older women) think that a woman with means of transportation and a busy social calendar have plenty of chances to engage in an affair and do "haram stuff". I wouldn't go into details but I think a woman must be really miserable if she would be spending all her life fishing for an open window to cheat (lol), Just treat yo woman RIGHT, fam, and she would have no reason to go innit?
Did y'all fall so back that we have to financially coerce a woman to guarantee harmony in the household without ever having to put effort in it ?
I've never heard a person repeat aloud that he wishes to struggle outside all day to let his wife enjoy the comfort of having all her wishes and demands satisfied.


We are relieving you from this great burden by supporting ourselves. Of course i'm talking as a daughter, a sister, and a future partner in matrimony.
Being a functional member that could actively take part in making decisions in matters concerning foreign factors, getting a proper education, having an independent source of income, having my own car, and knowing my full rights and being able to get them by law. Going out there and being somebody that isn't defined by my relation to a member of the opposite gender shouldn't be intimidating unless you were planning to oppress me from the start.

It's not even the men in my family that are trying to kill my vibe dammit.

I'm chill.
Moving on.

At times I just have to take a few steps back because all this rejection is so suffocating. When I know very well that in an academic and vocational environment, I have the exact same qualifications and capabilities to be as brilliant. I know it, and I've done it.
It just makes me sad that even the new generation of men is still thinking 20 years back. And this rejection is manifest in many forms; sometimes it's as simple as social rejection in a male dominated territory. Being in a classroom full of males, where you can't even say salutations without having your motives questioned. Of course this is not always the case, I've made a few intimate acquaintances. But I've never been able to work in a team of males without a few uncomfortable situations from the opposite side.

Truth is, I like hanging out with boys my age. It's a fascinating social experiment and I learn a lot about human interaction and social boundaries. At least it has been educating for me; for I often get the impression that a few individuals are very conscious of the fact that we are of different genders and this can only work out if we have a 'thing' going on. Hence the awkward attitude and the verbal mishaps. The raised eyebrows and smirks, the coded inside jokes.
Kids not knowing how to talk to a female they are not courting. Kids thinking that a woman in vicinity is a woman at hand. Kids seriously believing that you can't be friendly without being flirtatiousness they have to always be on their guards "to make the boundaries clear" for their peers to an offensives limit, which backfires so badly. You could smell it in the air, this unpleasant tension; and being among the only one or two females in a hall of +20 makes the pressure unbearable sometimes.
I had to withdraw from two courses at grad school because I couldn't breath. I couldn't tell my academic supervisor that, of course. I would've have faced the same situation at work if most of the men were sent to the offshore site. I'm really glad we don't have to work in teams at the office and rarely ever have the time to socialize.
You may say that I'm being dramatic and I shouldn't pay attention to such trivia when I'm only here to study; but what is a college experience if all it does on a mental level is exhausting you.

I can't change how these kids think; it's not my job. I can't back off to avoid the drama, I need to go places.

I can't change my attitude so as to feel like 'part of the squad' either.

I tried blending in. And I'm tired of trying with no signs of reciprocation from the other side. I just wish to be done with courses as soon as possible so I can work from home until my graduation.

Note IV

The flower Cynara is such a powerful symbol.
I wonder if i could call my daughter that. Though it's such an unusual name for an Arab.

Ferocious yet mellow. Poised, yet stings when the need arises.
A fighter, a dazzling survivor in the desert that could still blossom in a blizzard.
It may not be pretty on the common scale of looks, but it is attractive for all the right reasons.
Or maybe I just like purple flowers way too much.
But who doesn't ?

Future daughter, if you stumble upon this one day; all grown up and curious about your mother's adventures on the cyber space, and If you ever wondered at your strange name (peculiar is the word) kindly read Ernest Dowson's poem Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae. Then listen to Somewhere in Mediterrania (you'll prolly find it on my phone).

That's your song. And a fine, eloquent gentleman (though dead) has written a whole poem, just for you.

I'm writing this as a single working lady part time student with aspirations and dreams. I prolly haven't met your dad yet (or have I?). I hope he's cool. And handsome. And I hope that you love yourself, the way I love you already, Cynara.

I just want you to know that, despite all; I've been faithful to thee, in my own fashion. 

PS : I'm supposed to be sensitizing the literature review of my masters thesis proposal. But yakno, procrastinator. I hope you don't turn out to be the same :}}}

On Human Relations

I could never understand why would anyone try to pretend that they are cool with someone they hate with passion.
It's beyond my grasp.
Isn't life too short to exert oneself so much just for appearances' sake ? down with appearances if it makes you feel like a despicable fool, forced to withstand the presence of anyone despite your hate.
I may not be aggressive enough to state it verbally, but I'm pretty sure my face is candid enough.

"Look, mate, I'm only being civil"

I don't loathe people that easily anyway, therefore if things reached this point,chances are that they are rogues hated by many. Not that I need a justification for not liking a person. It could happen naturally.

My father once told me that human relations aren't black and white. And this way of thinking is quite childish and could get me into real trouble in the "real world" where being honest is a weakness. People plot in the shadows, and publicly announcing your enmity is stupid because it steals away the element of surprise, is what I understood.

I'm pretty aware that my "transparency" has made me a few enemies over my short life already; but these are the kinda people that would hate on you for simply being and that's why they didn't matter, I thought. One or two mishaps at work taught me to be more selective of my words, and it's true that my position was threatened many a times because I didn't suck up to a few seniors. That was a great lesson on growing up; but I'm glad I got away without having to compromise my integrity.

But when it comes to my peers; I sustained no great damage; and I know that I've made a few good friends in contrast. I'd like to think that I could pull off being an honest person without regretting much. My life philosophy is basically laying it all out there, and waiting for people to understand and appreciate my directness.

And it actually worked ; I got to know one of these girls that is as chill and indifferent as a child. She's not popular, but I like her very much nevertheless. Indeed we became friends almost immediately after the first conversation because she's the kind  of direct person that is so rare to find these days; seldom do you meet a person that doesn't really care about the impression they make. Well, I mean as long as they are fine with they way they lead their life..

I dig that.

For years I've been trying to be myself without the pressure of conforming to a certain template just to get along with everybody else. I almost thought that I needed to change every aspect of my personality to match the standards of the common cool Arab girl in her mid twenties. But after... a while you realize that those who try so hard to look perfect in everyone else's eyes are in reality so empty, and so lonely. And it's really an impossible feat, for people will always try to find new things to point fingers at, until you reach a point where it simply becomes impossible to mutate any more.

And I can handle being lonely, but at least I'd rather my own company ain't boring, and for that I need to know myself very well.

This girl, has taught me to be myself, and be truthful to it, with such style and confidence.. It's really an inspiring example.

Creep

Will i ever stop writing about you ? I wonder.

Today I listened to that song and I gave myself the permission to try and write down the notes in C Minor.
It's like Matt sang it for you that one time during practice; and liked it too much to record it again. It's not meant to be covered, I sense.

You cross my mind at random times of the month; when my brain freezes and things get lost on my desk at work; when I notice that the merry-go-round at the far marina is turning so slow as if it was trying to turn against the wheels of time.
And when I glance at the dried up drops of tears on my steering wheel while waiting on the signal.
I forget to wipe it every time.

You, so orange and simple, changed me in ways that I can't describe and...took your quarters in my heart like you've belonged there all along.

You don't know, because I never told you, and I can't.

You won't know that when I hit rock bottom, the lowest point of my angst and confusion; when my heart was torn and desolate,
I glanced at you,
Raving about so happily, when you should've known more than anyone else, that life is much more complicated and exhaustive to spend the little breaks it gives us on trivial dissipation, and to allow ourselves to be deceived and soothed into temporary moments of fake satisfaction.

Why were you so happy, pray tell?

Did you ever notice when I wasn't around ? Because I do.

You floated like a feather, in a beautiful world.

And why was I unable to see the colors of this life just the same? You and I, why were we so similar yet so different on countless levels?
Such cruelty on your part to rub my misery on my face with such ease and indifference.

How 
Did you manage to be so content with so little?

I never knew back then why you indulged so much in the little joys of life; but it touched my heart nonetheless, your boyish shenanigans, and I laughed along, while rivers ran down my cheeks.

It was like magic. Consolation in the form of a human being, you. A walking lesson with a beating heart on what really matters and what doesn't.

I've wanted you to read that passage where Tomas said that Teresa occupied the entirety of his "poetic memory" though he was perfectly capable of loving other women besides her own; but I doubt you would've understood what I wanted to convey; you had trouble with my savage way of bending vocabulary; as you so have casually put, once.

I don't think I can ever explain how and why I came to love your person; and how it's something more precious than any kind of bond I'll ever make in my life. That it doesn't matter us not being able to be together anymore, how it wouldn't nullify or prevent my love for another, how knowing you changed my perception of life, how I have sat my mind into crossing lengths on your account, how I held the bow because of you,

How that weight I vowed to carry as long as I'm breathing is yet so pleasantly light.

Every corner of my soul knows that this is how I truly feel right now. I'm leaving this here because I want to remember this feeling in 20 years. 

Looking back, you were just a child trapped in an adult's body, weren't you?
wanted to escape a dark reality that you dreaded way more than the darkness growing within you...and you knew.
Now I understand that you did live with much zeal because you knew, you wanted to bliss and be blessed, just like Ippolit as he laughed hysterically with tears in his eyes and dread in his heart at Madam Epanchin.
She must have known as well.

Will I ever stop writing about you ?

Probably not. Thou art my lute, and the thought of you creeps up my cold feet in quite nights when sleep escapes my clutch. I'd write and write and write volumes of this revolution that you stirred, this... arson that you started, before taking off ,I shall write about the you that lives in my heart.

Because....really, what is life but an encounter ?

A condensed instant of infinity?


"ﻣﺎ ﻣﻌﻨﻰ ﺃﻥ ﻧﺤﻴﺎ..ﻭﻻ ﻧﺪﺭﻯ ﺑﺄﻥ ﺍﻟﻌﺸﻖ ﻗﺪ ﻳﺒﻘﻰ ﺳﺠﻴﻨﺎً ﻓﻰ ﺍﻟﺨﻼﻳﺎ"

Note III

Flowers are such necessary creatures. One may argue that their mere existence is a form of consolation; almost a reparation for the world's cruelty and shameless savagery.


3:45

I keep seeing the same flower everywhere and I can't name it no matter how hard I try. I'd chop my hands before I pick one off.

4:14

Could it be an apparition of a flower ?