NO TRESPASS

'Indeed some people are really shallow'. 'Feeding and squandering on trifling talks'. This has always been my impression of those people I see sitting on this baladi ahwa, not far away from where I live. I usually bump into Z. , foreign collegues, friends I haven't met in ages sitting there smoking shisha and drinking tea., Day or night, I expect to see someone I know. Now this ahwa has become a significant landmark in my routes whenever I walk to run some errands. I have to pass by, poke inside if I didn't see anyone lining up on the street seats.

Despite my familiarity by now with the ahwa, I never thought of spending some time there. All my visits are en passant. Quick stops. Quick sips of Z.'s cinamon & ginger drink. Quick greetings before I go on. I guess I enjoy the guest feel. Just standing there, listening to a couple of jokes, hearing some political gossips and just leave. Smoke away all what I have heard as soon as I leave.

I am very much sealed in my t.v. image of an ahwa : a place to just masticate on time. I would wardoff my friend's attempt to convince me that the best talks happen on the ahwa with a couple stones of me'asel. Could very well be.

But I know there is something inside me that rejects sitting there, yet seeks any opportunity to be there. To have, again and again, an en passant connexions. I know this place growing up. Up and down I would pass it. Take a silent glimpse of it when walking alone or with my dad. Dared not to gawk inside because it is impolite to stare at people in their private cosmos.

Private cosmos! Pa, what are you talking about?!