Who am I to help you?

I am not very strong Or extraordinary smart Have more quirks than I would like I have a name that many have A face in which many find themselves Who am I to help you? Often I can’t even help myself Let alone understand. I […]

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Mumbling

I am not one of those who write. I do not know how or what to write. My hands did not learn how to hold the pen correctly until now. Also, I do not speak well. I write in a dim light. I can hardly […]

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Diaspora Dialogue

Never before I saw someone like him. His distinctive face seemed sculptured, at least as long as he didn’t smile. His smile, that could break the hardest concrete, that broadly and shingly could spread through time and space and bewitch my senses. He lived, worked […]

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Westliches Mädchen

Willkommen Reinheit! Willkommen ängstlicher Geruch! Ich versuche, deine Schönheit zu beschreiben Mit bordeauxroten Buchstaben. Ich versuche die Engel anzuziehen Mit deiner Schönheit Ich versuche, die Meeresfische zu sammeln, Um in deinem Namen zu schwimmen Morgens und nachts Beim heiligen Gebet Hast du rosige Wangen Du […]

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Stories

I wish I could say that I like writing with a pen. That on every occasion – in the train or in a café – I open a small and pretty notebook and immortalize poetic thoughts or profound quotes. Instead, I , at most, type […]

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All that time

Damascus Countryside 2012 7 PM. One of the war machinery – as I wasn’t familiar with the types of them at the time – had hit my house. 10 PM. I’m inviting my friends tomorrow to a sleepover party. 1 AM. One more song for […]

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Listen

Listen, you’ve tried by all available means, worked harder each day than anyone else. Since the very beginning you have justified yourself but finally failed in being yourself. Horrifying, if your helplessness is comparable with a pebble stone within a tight jungle of concrete, if […]

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The forest

They stand like warriors. Ready for the battle, against everything that was. Their hands are stiff, joined together. A front, determined, for hours, for ages. And when the storm comes, the tornado or hurricane, you might forget who or what they used to be. Even […]

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Your little girl

Your little girl Your missing rib A girl who turns the rattle of your heart on in her bed The crackling of your joints while you make love to her Like an old man moving slowly between the kiss and the shoes And [she who] […]

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Helper Syndrome – Part 2

Actually the laughter of the group lasted a whole two minutes that seemed to me infinitely long and made me infinitely embarrassed. Especially Mohammad the First and Mohammad the Second were rolling on the floor laughing. They didn’t only share the same first name, they […]

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