The Wind In The Valley

 I lay in bed but I do not sleep.

The wind's hiss is loud in the valley between Mansourieh and Hazmieh, 

in between my home and your home, I wonder how is your companion doing there on the hazmieh side, 

as my significant other turns in bed next to me.

The creaking of the door does not tire and the chairs, outside on the blacony, move carried by the wind one milli at a time creating a daunting stomp. Stomp.

I lay in bed and I do not sleep,

I think of you my dearest,

I did not say goodbye.

You live in the spaces in between, in the vast valleys, carried by the wind or down in the stream. 

You live in the spaces in between, in between your friend who is now my friend, who is far far away on another continent, yet we speak not of you, but both, only of you we think every time we connect, and we speak only to thread the void  you left in both of us with the warmth of your memory.

You live in our common spaces, on a fridge as a card, between a children 's book pages you got to Hana, on mugs carrying hot drinks and mugs carrying pens on office desks.

You live in the narrow space, in the conversations between my husband and myself, you, our friend, our only truly, equally friend of both. 

The wind blows in the valley and I can not sleep. 

- to Zee

Odisho - carpenter and maker of instruments

Odisho is a carpenter who helped me change the wooden frame of a window in my house. He is originally from Syria and says he used to make instruments there in addition to general wood works. He is often singing while working and always in a good mood. If you need any Oud, Bouzouk or Mizmar please message me to give you his contacts, he is available also for any wood work you might need in the dekwaneh / Bauchrieh area.

Everybody loves the horizon

No matter who you are, where you are going, and what are your dreams or aspirations, when walking the corniche, everybody loves to contemplate by the horizon.

Goat pet in Hamra

Baby goat was running around Jeanne d'Arc street with little Aya.