22 Apr 2011


It suffocates me here. I feel as if I am in a prison. Unable to move or do any action. Everything is so small and squeezed. I have to always be pretending. I am not engaged by any means. I draw this smile and pretend I am interested. I am not interested nor smiling. Nor wanting to be here. I just want some space and some distance. It is so different from what I like and what I enjoy. It is even so far from it. Everytime I go there I am turned ooff. I get kicked out of myself to a large distance. It is so uncomfortable to me. I am someone else. And I am sure it shows on my face that I am not interested. I crave some piece and some space, physical and mentally. We are engaged in weird conversation. I so not connected to it. It is not that I want to talk about some sophisticated things. I just want to be interested. Its either revolved around the kids present in the setting. Or a talk about a kid that is travelling or about some prejudgement opinion. I literally don't have anyrhing to say
Or do. And he turns to be sommeone else. An insecure. Controlling.here too? I am suffocating from trying to turn me into a replica of you with the endless over protection that I become intimidated to say or do anything alone. I always feel under pressure. It is amazing how I am so turned off.

2 Apr 2011


Islamic museum. Parking garage. Customized. Inside a building and a mall. Not by any means close in shape or essence to the capital of cairo, city stars. Nor the empire states of the nile, nile city. Just an easy miss parking. In fact, an apartment building changed to be a parking. I am not sure where we parked. Living room or bedroom. Wish I knew.

We went to take the elevator. A typical middle class man. Not sure middle or lower middle class. Just a real man from this old time. He was not old. Late 40's maybe. He entered with us and the whole elvator smelled. I inhaled the aroma and I smiled.
There was this deep armoa of 'leb'. Seeds. He was 'az'az' leb probably on his way to the elevator and he simply filled the whole elevator with that smells.

This smell took me back decades. To the slightly disappearing 'tasaly' shops. This little but famous shop next to the church in heliopolis. Overlooking the metro. The small bazar that sold leather sandals that I so liked. Reminded me of the eurpoean missionaries. Of Soeur Germain and Ann Marie. Of my half swedish friend, Rony Sidky. To the enjoyable trips with my mom, brother when we were visiting in heliopolis. To 13 makabati. The red church. Truimph. Saphire. This back street linking saphire to saint fatima. To the small island that separated the empty street to two lanes. The island where my cousins waited for the bus. 3am nour. The toufi bonbon with a ballerina on its paper. The black and brown shoes of my father's moukasan shoes. How I tried to make a cadence while going up the stairs. Oxford book store. Groppi. To my sleep over at my uncle's house. The 'Basta' infront of the very old apartment that once belonged to my grandmother. Josline and Mireille. Tante Durreya and Soheir.

My brother.


It might be a fear. A fear from getting drifted somewhere. To this remote area where you find it hard to hit a home run. It is spacious and neat. Maybe full of life or maybe not. I can not quite decide for that matter. I swing between this thought and the other. In sparks of realization, dreams and hopes. I try to moderately calibrated for the variation. Not successful at it so far. Again, not sure if I enjoy the swings but at least am aware of it. Can not deny that I am very lazy with it. With finding its real cause. I maybe know and sometimes touch on it, but it seems to be a little farther than I want to dig at this time. I do not know why though.

You know when there is a deep nostalgia that scavenge in these areas that are the most tender. It does not bleed though. Leaves no scars. Only untraceable pain. Haunting you. Associated with every deep smile or laugh or feel of love. As if it is a reminder of some sort. A ghost from the medieval time that is wearing a black head gear. Pretty scary. Even if this ghost is busy haunting others, it succeeded to leave you in worry. To engrave its presence.

I can allocate this ghost. I can trace it. But again, too unwilled to face it and look to it in the face. I preferred to see its reflection but not to just turn my head and face it. I know one day I will.