It’s always sad, so sad, to read something you really really wished to hear for yourself, then discover its directed to someone else at the end..
You re-read the whole thing again and don’t really know whether it was the very you who allowed your mind to trick you by hiding all these signs , to may be give you the pleasure of dreaming it may have been you for few minutes? or was it your mind that did it all on it’s own?..
But you won’t really know the difference then..
It’s 3:00 a.m. and I am scared enough to get myself up from bed in the middle of the night to search for a good book, any good book I think I may enjoy once I finish reading “Born there, born here” for Mourid El Barghouti.
“I saw Ramallah” and then the sequel “Born there, born here” are of the most exciting, depressing, enjoyable, painful experience I ever lived through reading.. and the idea that I may reach their final page, sooner than later, makes me feel sincere insecurity for not finding something as equally wonderful any time soon.
I am searching for stock of “relatively” good books in my library and on my mind Paul Sweeney‘s quotation:
You know you’ve read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.
Unfortunately, I am about to lose two..
You know those days when you wake up in the morning and need to quickly get dressed. You absolutely have no intention to look pretty, you actually don’t want to. So you grab an average dress, something that you keep for a crappy-mood-morning like this one. You don’t comb your hair, or don’t try to perfectly do your veil..
Then you hastily dash out of the house, and accidentally run into someone who would tell you “Hello pretty, how are you?”.. and it doesn’t feel good.
Tahrir Sq. at 1 am.
I have never felt comfortable with weddings..
But this time was different, both the bride and groom are more than just colleagues at work, and more than just a dear sister and a dear brother. Luckily last minute escape plan also failed and I just found myself there.
Once I saw their faces shinning with smiles.. I was suddenly really happy..
~*~*~*~
This is the first wedding I really really enjoyed. As simple as it was – I sincerely wished them an ever lasting happy life..
~*~*~*~
Nonetheless to add more magic to the day, it was the first time to pass by my favorite Tahrir square alone that late. A moment of serenity while watching Cairo sleeping with open arms embarrassing everybody under dim lights.. Cairo is beautiful. As quite, as elegant and as peaceful only at night..
It was indeed a night to remember, for once in a very long time, I had very good reasons for joy..
—-
The post’s title is borrowed from Omar Mostafa‘s first book.
Long ago I heard a quote on radio and wrote it down in the nearest random book beside me. Only today the quote crossed my mind and I couldn’t get it away from my thinking till I found the book after intensive searching. The quote was there, sleeping on the very same page I vaguely remembered, lying between thousand other pages scattered in hundred books around the house…
I am sure I wrote it once upon a time, and it crossed my mind for a reason – even if I don’t know what is it, just like my decision to share it with you only today as well..
“For us once our brief light has set, there is one unending night for sleeping.”
I will never forget when she actually cried at the end of Arab Bloggers conference, or the many times she saved no effort to help everybody -at least myself- with whatever we need on Global Voices Online internal community..
May be we never had a chance to talk much, but since the first time I saw her I secretly called Jillian C. York the “colorful”; for her spontaneity, energy, smiling face and kind heart can fill life with more “life” and color the world a better place..
Honestly, I didn’t plan to post it on her birthday, but this is how it came :-)
So a happy birthday dear Jillian.. and may your laughter never leaves your face..
البحر:
قد سألت البحر يوما هل أنا يا بحر منكا؟
هل صحيح ما رواه بعضهم عني وعنكا؟
أم ترى ما زعموا زوار وبهتانا وإفكا؟
ضحكت أمواجه مني وقالت:
لست أدري!كم فتاة مثل ليلى وفتى كأبن الملوح
أنفقا السّاعات في الشّاطىء ، تشكو وهو يشرح
كلّما حدّث أصغت وإذا قالت ترنّح
أخفيف الموج سرّ ضيّعاه؟..
لست أدري!أتراني كنت يوما نغما في وتر
أم تراني كنت قبلا موجة في نهر
أم تراني كنت في إحدى النّجوم الزّهر
أم أريجا ، أم حفيفا ، أم نسما؟
لست أدري!إنّني جئت وأمضي وأنا لا أعلم
أنا لغز … وذهابي كمجيتي طلسم
والّذي أوجد هذا اللّغز لغز أعظم
لا تجادل ذا الحجا من قال إنّي …
لست أدري!
الطلاسم – بتصرف
~ إيليا أبو ماضى
Feeling guilty for something you have not done, is one of the hardest feelings one can go through. Every night you would feel a persisting urge to cry without knowing why or what for.
You are left with a permanent feeling of not doing something as well as you think people are expecting from you, or of being inconsiderate if you smiled or not smiled back at someone – anyone. There is always something to speculate, and something to doubt it could have been done better or might have been misinterpreted by others.
You’d blame yourself for what you’ve did, and what you’ve did not. You’d start monitoring your every single word said and every single action done from your part, and suddenly.. suddenly you feel you need to close your room’s door on yourself – escape people, interactions and all different feelings of guilt or doubt that something -anything- must have hurt someone, somewhere, sometime..
It’s, as always, a delightful experience to meet Bint Battuta. Something is so relaxing about her, and you never know whether its her cheerful smile or tranquil way of taking you to explore her passion for words..
Unfortunately, we didn’t spend much time together in Chile; but during the few minuets we walked through the Plaza de Armas, she didn’t fail to fascinate me with her careful observation to details, pointing to plants growing in a balcony or a bicycle hanging from another..
I was walking beside her and secretly wishing our stay would extend longer; for there are some people in life who inspire me even by simply sharing their silence.. and Bint Battuta is one of them..
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