21 Oct 2008

Z & H

Will they combine together? Bring the 2 homes together.

I wait for the time when we can start. We. I had already started :)


And I kept changing the top and Jackets. From brown safari jacket with big belt. To B&W checked long Jacket. Short brown jacket. I kept changing and changing. I do not feel comfortable. I want to dress elegant but at the same time I can not tolerate any layers. I felt suffocating. Maybe because it was so humid outside. Maybe because the house seemed so confusing. Scattered things here and there. Maybe. I do not really know.

I took all off. Wore a stripped blouse. No ear rings. No perfume. No makeup. No bag. Money and credit card in my pocket. I just put on the blouse, pants, comfortable shoes and rushed outside.

Sometimes I rebel aganist dress code. I hate this concept. To tell me what to wear. TO force me to wear certain style. Why not leave it up to me to dress how I like and feel comfortable. If meeting client, I sure know what to wear but if working in the office that day, why not let me dress the way I feel.

Too many restrictions annoy me. So I discover. 'I am not cut to work in an organization', I exclaimed to him. I sure prefer the least control ever possible. To work alone, that's for sure. To think alone, that's a fact. To not allow any bossing, that's my default.

This job suits me. But I still believe they are doing it in a trivial way. I can easily see ways to improve; flaws in the thinking and approach. To my previous manager's surprise and amusement, I AM a big picture person. I relate things to eachother. I can easily find relation between what can for sure appear as scattered and unrelated. I can do that easy. Find relations. Impacts. Connections. I connect things AND link them together. Close the loop.

In work only! In life.... I scatter things around so that I remain free.

12 Oct 2008


Yesterday WAS a dream. No. No. No. It was not a dream. It is our reality. US.

9 Oct 2008

H& (*)

I have conquered a man least conqureable. But I also know the limits of my power, and I know what it takes to answer the demands of him.

He has loved me; I am his love. I have had all I could have of him, the most secret layers of his being, such words, such feelings, such looks, such caressess... I have felt him exultant in my love, passionate, possessive, jealous. I have grown on him, not bodily, but like a vision. What does he remember so vividly of our moments together?

That afternoon. That afternoon when he was taken by the sense of living in a fairy tale, with a veil between himself and me. Me the very real. The very Me. And the very him.

I crave for him. Only him. I want to live with him, be free with him, suffer with him. Phrases from his letter haunt me. Yet I have doubts about our love. I fear my impetuosity. I follow him with my soul, I enter into his feelings as he wanders through his wide streets, I partake of his breathing, his desires. I think his thoughts

Everything in us is married.

You are not lying to me? You are all I feel you are. Do not decieve me. My love is too new, too absolute, too deep.

....and all that and much much much more he knew.... but he forgets. More than anyone on this earth, he saw... but he denies. Deeper than myself he entered, ....but he pulls back. In fear. Or in scare. In selfishness. Or in sacrifice. For his own reasons, he did it all.

And it is deep down that I never really blame. Or get upset. Or even think of revenge. He is the only one who does change my core nature. Has a power over me. And I wonder why? I know why.

But it is torturing me. Cutting through me to the core. By the second. And yet, I never broke a promise or run with the slimmest thought away from him. Even in the deepest moment of despair, I whisper him and Him. I galloped to him but he is never to be found. Hiding under his cloack. Defending himself aganist everyone. Even me? Refusing to see. Even me? Stalling to move. Even to me?

And even him, he does not know, or maybe does not imagine or believe. His depth in me. I thought he knew. Was sure he knew. His existence within me. I thought he recognized. Was sure he recognized. His completeness in me. I thought we both realized. His ancient soul recognized mine. But, ah, maybe he does not know. Had he really known, recognized, or realised.... everything would have been different......
every word would have been different....every gesture would have been to include, to embrace....to assure that a carrefour had not been entered.

But what does he know!

But then again....did he ever know?

Can I express my pain? Is that what you call pain? Is that what you call express?

And I leave him to be whatever. He will remain my child after all. And I know he has no one but me.

*H or *J or even *C.... how will it ever matter...

But.... he will still ask. still trace. still brush his J-spot. still doubt. still search.

he will not trust.

and he wants me to trust. me? I trust. I saw, and trust. I was in pain, and trust. I watched silently, and trust.

and you still want me to talk about choices? acrynoms? letters?

who stood by the door and who entered to the core?


6 Oct 2008


And my Alex was intended to be a 'megalopolis'. Created in the shape of what is called a chlamys, a macedonian military cloak, with walls that would strech endlessly into the distance, streets wider than any yet seen. An ideal city. Laid in such a way as to benefit from sea breezes yet providing shelter from the wind. Aristotle will call my alex so. A library. A lighthouse.

When the originial founder, Alexandre, died his generals quarrelled on who to lead it. As if Alexandria refused to be led by anyone but the original leader, my alex split.

But it was for its learning and teaching that my alex was chiefly known. The library was built there, dedicated to the muses. From the start, the plan for my alex was not like any other. Bigger than elsewhere. Authentic. Different. Original. Created with a purpose.

And it got tired. From the greed and selfishness spreading everywhere. The endless fights to obtain it and control it. Naively or kindly or even dignified as my alex had stood always, refused to utter a word. Allowing, under the cloak of surrendering, and depending on the military origin, to be used for all other purpose than the one created for. Watch silently the burning of its library; the destruction of its lighthouse. Forgetting its real purpose and original nature. Allowing to be inhabited by those who are scared and timid. Incapable and unable. Selfish and abusive. Leaving itself to be inhabited by lazyness. Purposless. Transferring it to be their replica. But unfortunately, a mild copy that is struggling between the great past, the bright future and the lost present. Forgetting by the second what it was created for. To be a destination to those muses and continue shelter those in need. But in doing that, it will remain Alexandria. A center. Not a deserted corner.

Alexander died. Muses left. Chlamys cracked. Breeze squeezed. Shelter exposed.

I can no longer recognize my alex

انا بعشق البحر
زيك يا حبيبي حزين
و ساعات زيك مجنون
و مسافر و مهاجر
و ساعات زيك زعلان
و ساعات مليان بالصمت
انا بعشق البحر


5 Oct 2008


It was supposed to be the 'us' only. Because we both know how uncomfortable we are together, how the vacation can end up 'ugly', N. and K, A. and M. were secretly invited to join us here.


They all went downstairs for breakfast, and I stayed here. In bed. Ordered breakfast in the room. Still in my PJ, having breakfast. Sipping coffee while looking at the huge fenetre overlooking the beautiful serpentine alleys all around me. Adding to the feeling of an endless passage of life.

Then, rushing like crazy maniacs to shopping in a mall 1 hour away from here. What if I do not want to? And I dont want to. Instead of spending time in the beautiful weather, slacking in the street, reading and drinking coffee, watching people, they want to imprison me inside printemps and lafayette. Why? I wont do it.

And without fighting, I left a note that I am going to cafe paul. To meet me there at 5 pm. And I sneaked out. Took a bus and walked the rest. Sitting in the cool weather watching the sun hiding behind the clouds. Listening to music and connecting to FMs around the world. Wishing they would not show up. They bring so much noise when they come. I wonder why I am irritated. Not sure if I will have to sacrify a lot or am I too rigid. They are just want to drag me with them and I insistently not allow them. Silently. And I never disturb their plans or force them to do anything I want. In fact, it is not a favour I am doing. It is just that I really dont want them to share with me and thus, pray they would never enjoy what I like. This is not their place. It is mine. And I dont want them to share it with me. I can share the 'arab attitude', aimless, triviality that they bring in here with them, but they should never treat my places in the same way they treat their meaningless life. Sorry.

Well, I will leave. For sure they will be late as usual because they can not get enough of shopping. Would for sure come ask for money, to which I will sure give with a sarcastic smile. Am I angry? Not really. Just cursing myself for not choosing right.



Hard to not remember you when here. Very hard. Not for anything but that you would probably like it. Probably. Although it became very hard for me to visualize how you would react now to these things if you had a chance to see it. Probably silent. But anyways.... Who am I to judge.

All I could do, after days of hesitation, was to send a belated greeting. In respect to the memory of the many conversations and dusted dreams that were torn away and thrown in the little neat garbage that carried similar papers, 'things i like to do' list written on a yellow paper lined with red; calendar paper carrying a smily face... and much more. All deemed trivial when a choice was to be made.

I watched them selling fresh fruits. Tomatoes. Herbs. Walking. Sailing. Enjoying and more importantly living in the the endless simple natural scenes that became part of their lives. Engraved in its nature. Infused in their attitude of love to beauty and simplicity. Allowing the 'Lovers walks' to move freely between the endless olive orchads and vineyards. Indeed 'terre' is beautiful.

On a restaurant. You can not help but allow the scene to captivate your heart and soul. Want to 'take them in your hug'. Looking around in all the faces to share the endless joy of beauty. Deciding at the end to watch this 'david' enjoy cooking for you. A simply marinated steak. Placed in the pumping hot fire. Slicing the potatoes on the simple plate, reflecting the colours of the houses enclosing us. Cut the steak into pieces and delicately placing it on the sliced potatoes. Sprinkle rocket on top of the meat and the potatoes. Wont serve it immediately, but leave the potatoe to soak in the meat juice.

Medium well please!

I would say that my heart is very well done by now.

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4 Oct 2008


- ...how it is to 'try' to care and show love and support, a duty... and when it comes natural. Very different. Pretend to listen and show interest, when you just do it to keep a conversation and break the always uncomfortable silence, that for sure unleash the self-consciousness and checking. Very apparent. Even in the most beautiful places that you love.

- ...how it is to be able to hug someone to sleep and wake-up in still in each other's hug, and how it feels when it is a duty. It does take a real lovers to do it. To be totally at ease. Totally comfortable. Totally wanting to stay there. Even when feeling uncomfortable, you would want to endure the pain and wait silently, while looking to the beautiful sleeping face, until they naturally change positions. And when they ask you if you are in pain, you deny and smile. And continue the hug.

- ...how it is to find someone who really loves you and understands you. Interested in you..... and when you or him is just another face in the crowd that you see more often but does not know any better.

- ...how life can be beautiful and simple and how we complicate it on ourselves and others because of our fear. Happiness is a choice. Not here or there. But it is a strength of choice that not everyone can make it. Prefer to hide behind whatever they choose as shields.

-...how harsh and judgemental we all are on others and on ourselves. Imprison ourselves in our own judgemental and in the fear of others judgements while letteing life slips away.

-...how it feels when a couple is comfortable with one another, when the boundaries and boarders disappear opening a spacious space for the sun to shine and reflect on all the inner beauty, and the breeze to cool all the wounds, and the love to refine all the sharp edges without changing and destroying the map.

-...how it feels to share and smile... that I really miss.

-...how you are naturally born a strong willed, determined, and blessed with an unbeatable inner stamina and that nothing can stop it. I was amazed myself! That is a bless.

-...how your inner fire is so apparent that you smile while sitting silently watching those struggle to steal a moment with you and you let them do that; allow them to share whatever they want while you listening silently and sincerely. sometimes out of guilt knowing that you might have stirred something in them by the silent looks, unchanged smile and brief comments.

-...how much I am not a snob; unconsciously share nothing about myself; indifferent to say who I am; how bored i get from social conversations to which i listen with a spaced-out eyes and a wandering eye searching for a connection.

-...how people rarely listen; rarely interested in what is said; how they manage to eat, listen, talk and nothing register in or feed their soul, connection or stomach.

-...how much i enjoy myself and naturally manage to always be myself and do the routine that comforts me without distrubing anyone's space or plans...without forcing or even asking for a company. Self sustained to a great extent.

This long trip is teaching me a lot.

And my heart beats are deeper and stronger than I ever recognized.

Some people are born with a really sad heart.