Stages

3 stages of grief 3 stages of trauma 3 stages of anger I am the 4th stage. I carry all the stages of my lineage. It’s been a while… We took a little break from the blog. We’re not quite there yet but we think we’re ready to write again. Poppies symbolise remembrance and these…

rays of sun.

Rays of a typical NYC afternoon down upon us and I go my own way. We came to pay a visit to our history. What we found were just a few reminders of a town I have not seen again. A few reminders of something more recent, a war in secret, half still shrouded in…

RED.

She twirls around and around, fancy sandals, nude, ready for that dazzling soirée in the sun. Red is her image. She has never felt this free since that long time ago. And yet, today, she is red. She is vibrant. She is flowery.  The men will all see. But sadly, once again, they will not…

She knows.

She has her father’s smile. Even,probably,in pain, her smile is wide. I peer at her, my gnarled knotted hands have held her curious gaze again and again.Only a month old,what a feisty little one.Like that red bear ball on the couch. Reach for it. Reach for it now. Reach –––––– and she babbled to it….

A cat can teach.

A cat is the best companion for solace, they say. I know it myself. A cat is also very honest about feelings. I know this as well. Which is why, I am surprised it took me so long to accept the reading of The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa. Emotions and contact with others…

late night symphonies of a broken record

A broken record, no.I have no time. Lost time,I have. Trying to understand this broken record. Enough is enough. Give me back this house. Give me back this city. Leave the broken record behindAs a testament To everything you did wrong. Everything I hear isArabic slam poetry, the only sound worth concentrating on to remind…

it’s been a week, Beyrouth

I couldn’t write last week. I couldn’t publish. I don’t like being too personal on this blog but given the events of 4 August, last Tuesday, I had no energy all week. A traumatic event is an emotional upheaval. I saw  9/11 with my own eyes as a child, growing up in front of Manhattan….

8 clippings of news

This week in the news. We wrote a piece like this a few years ago. We’re going to try it out. This past year is an extraordinary year, not necessarily in a positive way. We’ve already discussed certain events. These past few weeks though have been charged with tension, emotions, and craziness. 1. Turkey’s Erdogan…

home and the silence from above.

Words from a late night solitary loneliness. Before the chaotic horrors of this week. Home is a place I no longer know. Home is a place I cannot understand. Home is a place I dream of. Except. It is dark. It is black. It is a nightmare. It is the unknown. I don’t know what…

Cracked mirrors. We are to blame.

Welcome to a bizarre world. Welcome 2020. The vision has worn off. Our tinted glasses were simply confiscated. It seems to be the beginning. Last year, this past decade, these past six months. Does it matter? Not really. As I sit here writing comfortably under a roof with a balcony, jazz firing up from up…