The library

A number of writing exercises written during a workshop in the Library of Alexandria..oh i miss the sea and i miss the "sharing" ! the first note was on my way, on the train! June 2013

And then

...And then, suddenly, every little detail turned into this blissful feeling of kindness. Every piano sound, every inch of grass and grain of dust in the air, the trees, the sun, every I Love You and Forgive Me... and those tears. No more headaches, no more heat, no more hate... it's an immense sensation beyond love, beyond any passion or compassion, deeper than mercy...more beautiful than any gift in the world...it's the peacefulness that comes after the sign, another sign confirming your existence within me. Then, i wonder ..how could something so little and trivial such as myself embrace you greatness and your beauty... 

AL HAMZA

They asked her "what's your name?" She said to herself "oh...here we go again! The most annoying question! Now what...maybe i should say another name". One of the girls repeated "what's your name" so she said "ummmm" 
"You are ummmming?!!"
"Ha! My name is loulou"
"Ohh cute name...but is that your real name"
Again reflecting to herself she said "No... that's not my real name, just like this is not the real me, i am a stranger of a strange name in a strange land. Feeling small, acting humble, trying to fit in the right place knowing that my existense is optional. Asking millions of questions amd getting no answers, no attention to the echo of my silent screams, just meaningless comments and chats that reflect your nobody-ness on me and total ignorance for the lines between the lines. Can't you hear the music? can't you sense the sound? you will never, and you will never see me...so why the hell do you want to know my real name?!"
"Hey! Is that your real name?" 
"No, my real name would be hard for you to pronounce" 

Being formal

I prefer being formal because you would hate my informality. You would hate me and the thought of me. You would hate the horrible words that occupy my mind all day long and burst out of my mouth the moment i see your meaningless face. You would hate it when i make fun of you infront of every one. You would hate the disrespect that shows in my body langauge, but I am sorry I do disrespect you. You will dispise the energy in my voice when I say "whatever!" and you will loathe the simplest detail that reminds you of me. But above all, you would hate yourself and you will be haunted by my ghost that reminds you of your fake pathetic unsatisfied stupid self and that tries to wake up your dead rotten soul. So, i prefer being formal.

The sea bless

I wrote the sea. I wrote every wave and grain of sand, and gave it to sailors to read and memorize and live in forever. I sang it to the homless children as their lullaby and told its legends to the tibet priests. I poured it into the french lady's cup of tea and spread its goodness on abondoned shores of towns and cities. I gave permission for pirates to steal the adventures of the past and the future and forgave them before they lose themselves in its mystery. 

And one day the sea asks me "why do you easily give me away and why don't i chose my destiny?"
I reply " dear sea, you belong to me. Your mystery is mine, your freedom, your beauty, your generosity is mine. I am your goddess. Forever you shall obey my wishes and forever i shall remain your bless."

I hate myself

I hate myself because i don't know it. I appreciate the mystery and i love the questions, but i hate confusion, and confusion is my definition. People say i am brave and strong, i try to believe them to consolidate my fragile cawordness. I take the risk, i just do it, i make the decision and put my heart into the heart of "no where". I fight battles, confront monsters, but i never win...i get myself lost in sweet puzzles of love, friendship, courage and self denial and i drive my own passion away... i hate that people see in me what i can't see. And i hate the fact that i love myself for the same reasons i hate it.

Read

When i touched that tree, i felt its skin upon my hand and felt the spirit of the earth. I felt your spirit flying around me. I heard the wind repeating your words my love, "read...read and pray to understand". I am reading, you are my sign, my passion, but you are not the reason i am reading. I read the written and the unwritten, i listen to what i read and my heart beats this unusual beat. My heart understands, but my mind doesn't. I know that tree could say something, reveal a secret or tell a story. I can feel its soul, i can sense the miracle, i hear freedom in every breeze, i touch mercy with the tips of my fingers...but i don't understand. Promise you would never leave me alone and let your heart be deeply buried in mine like the roots of this tree...hold my hand, pray, read with me and we will know. 

I remember 

I remember well your warm green eyes, your hilarious heartfelt laugh and your soft brown hair that wasn't interrupted by any white hair till your seventies. 

I miss our peaceful walks together at night in the quite streets. I loved the slow pace caused by your hurt leg and the cane, a walk to the milk shop would take us 40 minutes instead of 15, i would ask endless questions and you would flow with the most beautiful stories from the past. I remember he countless times you told me the story of Joseph the prophet in the balcony with that funny short glass of tea.I remember you sitting on your chair with the newspaper and our early breakfasts together before everyone else wakes up. I remember your proud steps to Friday's prayer and the way you dried your face with your handkerchief in the summer heat. I can still hear your loud voice on the phone blaming me for not calling and your funny fights with the evil neighbour. And I remember that the last time I saw you I never got to say goodbye because i didn't want to wake you up from your peaceful sleep. 

half man, half woman

I am half man, half woman. I definitely am, i have both inside me. However, they both misunderstand me. The three of us are in continuous fights. The man is arrogant, and kinda stupid. He paints, he sings, he shouts, he bursts and always gets angry at the fact that his strength is his point of weakness. And the woman, gosh she is crazy and dangerously intelligent, she does so much effort to show her kindness because she simply loves being evil. She writes, she dances, she crys, she forgets and always loves the fact that her weakness is her point of strength. I forget about both and i remind myself am human. I am a creature made of gratefulness. I burst, i shout, i cry, i forget, but i am not evil, nor am i stupid. I ask, i believe i get lost and i love...i am happy as long as i ignore that man and this woman.

...to be continued