Home doesn’t seem to fade
The walls fall down around me. They back off. The smoke rises and the mould blends with the bowel of the earth and sets in my palm. I am a tourist here, I don’t know what to do that would be worth the effort, except cry. Should I give up? Looking back into the wilderness seems tempting. Stones and snakes rise above their own shadows and only my heavy body explains the act of gravity.
They say, it’s going to rain today. That’s how I feel. This place does not seem to fade, and as I didn’t have to search for it, I decided to sink into obscurity, for example by dancing. It doesn’t matter. I will invent a new language, which they cannot cite, but right now I feel numb and I will not write. This vacuum always threw up itself.
My eyes are waiting for long answers and I am waiting. I walked the stairs down twice and when I got up, I told someone a useless secret, he didn’t smile. I can’t remember when it started, but I always try to bring it back to my first years. Childhood can justify everything, passion cannot be discovered.
I want many trees and blue water. The dreary yellow makes me rattle. Just one last flight and everything ends. Thy are so annoying!
She spent nine nights praising my vocabulary and my style of criticism. To be honest, I was a bit in love with her because she told me that I was a handsome man. She didn’t know how to put her words in order.
The river! The river! It flows!
In the crowd no one cried but me.
I check my phone a few times. I really wish I could sing well.
I don’t mention the exact moment I decided to stop writing. The train is too fast to catch my thoughts and it seems to be necessary to avoid my friends in order to learn the language.
All my days I’ve spent mastering the Arabic language and then I came here.
I try to rearrange my memory. It is embarrassing that the last problem is the reason for my coming here.
Did I really deserve all this – this life – ?
In my mother’s opinion dancing is still the most primitive and most provocative expression of the instinct. I forgot my dancing shoes in Damascus. And here I am, trying to review my mother tongue.