Looking at the number of posts in this blog i made over the years , this is the first year i ever write nothing here , just looking at the numbers i can see a drop of number of posts and things i write about and it's kind of funny thinking that this is my first and maybe the last post in 2016 at this place. Back in the days having a blog was the kind of cool thing and you'd be so proud having posts that you keep reading over and over again, thinking that at a certain point of your life that you are actually a writer and a good one. And you just read them thinking you have the world at your feet, but eventually you start to realise that you don't want people to read this post nor that post and you start hiding them and at the end of the day i ended up writing in notebooks. I actually walk around the city with 2 to 3 notebooks and whenever i feel like writing i just do and am ok with no one reading it , maybe it's some sort of growing up mechanism to understand that you don't need acceptance to feel good about how you feel and what you write , and you can no longer bear the look in their eyes when they read what's going in your head , so you keep hiding the words in notebooks and more notebooks till eventually someday someone will read them and my biggest fear remains to lose those notebooks. Maybe that's the good thing about having a blog is that for a reason they stick here on the world wide web for people to read. we're growing old that's a fact we have to admit and in the funny fast paced world it's hard for someone to stop by a blog and read it , and i think no one would be able to explain to their kids that at a certain point of our lives that this was our life written in online virtual blogs. The term blogger itself is fading away , and that's what's technology is all about lately , it's about erasing the past and paving road for the new. Still i believe at a certain point of our lives it'd be so nice for us to look back at the words we wrote and how we felt about ourselves and the world around us.

1999 - Part (1)

In 1999 a young walks into a cafe' in the old Egyptian superb of Heliopolis, everyone seems to be a little concerned and the intensity in the air matches the chill winter breathe on this day of the year. Undecided he grabs a chair and sits all by himself staring at the wall directing his long back to the chair he just sits there staring for a long time. The noisy sounds of the old city of Cairo doesn't seem to grab his interest that day. He just sits there uncaring to all the hustle taking place around him. The smell of shisha fills the place like a breathe of sadness that fills his soul as if he's going to order one. The small coffee shop boy comes near him waiting for the order, but the young man doesn't answer. "Tea, ya basha" and to make him leave his small piece of freedom he nods his head in anger.

The young man looks different than everyone around him yet everyone seems to be bothered by the news than to wonder about the sadness of that young man with long hair and tiring eyes sitting in the corner starring at the wall for 2 hours replacing a cup of tea with another one as long as he feels like shutting the noise outside out.... (to be continued)

Dark days

Maybe,we enjoy our dark days.

Heartache before sunrise,

black stories before bed time,

endless sea of confusion in life.

Days keep flying through our eyes,

birds of hope keep our company.

The full moon loneliness remains a mystery.

Maybe,we enjoy our dark days,

or maybe ... it enjoys our company

Dear Sunday

Dear Sunday,
It's my first time to decide to write you a letter to tell you that i hate you, from all my heart and soul i tried to make you a feel good day but i failed. No matter how hard i try i spend you all with myself fighting and debating like the whole world is over our shoulders. My dear Sunday i keep on trying but i fail to be happy with you. It's like you're cursed or something with me being born with you. Together we started and every week you keep reminding me of things i don't want to remember , like why was i born and where am going and how am i doing in this thing you brought me into. I wish i could tell you that am tired of you and no matter how slowly you go or fast you could go , i wish one day i could find peace within you.

I fell in love with this piece of art, it was colored with the color of life and ignites the hope in the soul. I fell in love with its meanings and the way it felt writing it , you end up reading it over and over again and share that big smile on your face. You feel proud as if your words are your first born daughter's smile. I fell in love with the piece and that piece in particular i still didn't write.

Every moment counts

In secondary stage days or as they call it "Thanaweya amma" there used to be a chemistry teacher in school class, as you know school lessons were for fun those days. The teacher while talking to us about anything other than chemistry started talking about time and great people who use time. That day he said there is one student in the room who doesn't waste a second of his life , he makes use of the tiniest bit of it in his studying and wondered why all students are not like him. I just had this thought today about how we really waste our time and did it really became this hard to make use of every moment. I had the thought that why not i'm making use of every moment , and if am going to be asked by God really what was i doing in this life and how was i using my moments and suddenly i had no answer. I envied that student the teacher was talking about in the class room , i did envy him today so much, as i know the teacher was looking straight to me.

One day

One day you'll look at the stars

and then all our dreams would come true

the heartache of the moon will be washed away

by the rain falling on it's heavy soul

the lightness of tomorrow

and the happiness that was left yesterday

all would crack up to the laughter of a child

and then a smile will break all our silence

One day you'll look at the stars

and then all our dreams would come true

Longing

Let the stars glow 

and our stories be told,

waiting for a moment to unfold.

dreams , nightmares.

everyday set to be fake or real

dreams , nightmares

as i miss you, think of you

as i long for you .. myself

Inside the box

Inside the box ... Where no one has ever been walls carved with memories, hopes and dreams. A small river pass by with reflections from the past and small creatures dreaming of a better future. Inside the box where no one has ever been except me ... Yes me. Inside this box where I usually trap myself and I no longer search for the keys, drawing patters and images about how life outside could be.

As days go by I start to see a silver lining passing through the cracks of the box walls, start to grab a chair and sit beneath the light hoping one day to be set free. I keep on asking myself if my soul is trapped inside the box created by the past and created by a culture that one day will be obsolete. The cracks start to get bigger and bigger as days go by and i could for the fist time hear the birds singing outside the dark box of despair. So the question is whether freedom exist inside or outside the box , do these cracked walls became your home sneaking out some light from here and there. Do i belong to the darkness or the light ?

I'm not that strong to break the walls with my hammer of knowledge nor I strong enough to find my way back to the box,so you wait for a chance ... someone to show you the way out or the way back in. A dream that could and couldn't be and for the first time of my life i start searching beneath the old trees for the box's keys , wondering if i'll ever find them or i'll have to break the walls in order to find me.

A new story

In our lives we meet people, the normal ordinary way whether at school college activities or wherever we want we meet different people and at this very moment of my life , i start to realize that i met so many people some that got stuck together and some that were lost alongside the winds of change. Life is so weird when it comes to meeting new people, am starting to feel that God is sending us a person on each phase of our lives to take our hands to something else ... To change a perspective or plant hope in the gardens of despair so as when we look back we could see what we could and couldn't have become. Some people i do really miss , their pictures represents a moment of reflection on a life i used to be living and if i see them again it'd be nice just to say hi , because like everything in life time goes on and it doesn't wait, it keeps opening space for the new to come in and let the old just go away. At this very moment of my life , i hope i can forget the past and all its stories and open a door for the new with all its shine , i hope i'm going in the right direction and i hope people i met have learnt something from me like what i learnt from them.

Lost in Time

You know ... 

There was a time when everything was different, 

the way we looked the way we talked 

the way we perceive this life. 

There was a time when everything seemed so small. 

The sun, the moon and the falling stars across the sky

You know ... 

There were days that felt so long yet so short 

All of a sudden those days are what we're longing for....

There were this group of people walking together,

They got scattered by the first cross roads

You know ...

Am just lost in time with all its memories

Old,new ....

What's yesterday and what's today ... 

you know or maybe you don't know ?

Two Lost Souls

Two lost souls, lost their way while searching for home.

Met each other at last, at the dark night cross roads.

Shared their stories together in the blinding cold.

Let their dreams of freedom together unfold.

Two lost souls, lost their way while searching for home.

Turned out  ...

Each others was what they were looking for 

Before Ramdan

This doodle was just before Ramdan, it contains all the disturbance going on my head at this period. We were expecting the release of the Dark knight rises and also it was the start of London 2012 Olympics. I remember that day very well at was one of those moments when you sit and put it all out on a piece of paper.

A bus doodle

This doodle was made on the bus i was taking from Granada Spain to Cordoba Spain , I actually had back then my iPod on and those were the music playing , this remains one of my all time favorite doodles. Song list included :

Sting (Shape of my heart)
Coldplay(Viva-La-Vida)
Fairouz(Keifak Enta)
SnowPatrol(Chasing Cars)

Your Picture

Intro : The number of poems i wrote in 2012 can be counted on hands , I'm posting this here now because there's a very very tiny probability that the one i wrote the poem to would read it.

Your Picture

I'm not tired of looking at your picture,

Not tired of seeing that sparkle in your eyes,

Lighting the dark sides of the screen of life.

For you, I'll start a journey to the center of hell

to be washed away by your heaven for one day.

I'm not tired of looking at your picture everyday

But i just hate how it feels when i start to see 

That you're not looking back at me