Young people have taken to graves at the hands of occupation. Fifteen is an age of your firsts and I mourn their loss in an unspeakable manner and in a manner that can’t be written. While that is true, it concerns me that it is demanded of me to be inclined to some nationality while …
Category Archives: Prose
Log: June 30th
It’s 6:55am and I’m awake, there is a person right outside our home who’s reciting the Muslim confession of faith in a broken voice. He’s not mute but he is unable to form sentences, he is unable to talk but is capable of making certain sounds that don’t necessarily mean anything but sometimes scare the …
Log: June 22
Who is the third that walks always besides you? —T.S Eliot The average attention span of a human in 2013 was eight seconds, a second less than a gold-fish and I can see how that is right. However, I’m not sure if that is all there is to it, for someone who is suffering from …
June 21: A Log
It’s a warm summer evening lightly accompanied by a fading rain; I rather like the sound of rain tapping the tin roofs of our home and the dim light in my room. I have turned on my personal computer, it’s been a while since I used it and its gathered pile of dust is relatively …
8 April 2018: A Log
It’s Monday, a world acclaimed day of insufferable, a day of lowest motivation possible on the planet but thank god, and I slept in relief because the officials have closed the colleges down today but I had to wake up anyway, which is a completely different story. It’s been raining past few days and to …
27/03/2018: A Log
Today was special but I didn’t get a day off for it and in all secrecy, only one other person knows about why today every month is faultlessly special; liberty of going public is something we earn when we have the legs to stand up for it and until that day comes, nothing is going …
22/03/2018: A Log
“Tear is a house build out of a storm.” —To Build a Home, the Cinematic Orchestra Some days aren’t as good as other days; they lay over my head like an unnecessary hand ruffling my hair so bad that I so dedicatedly cared for and gave my all morning to but sometimes, there I am …
19/03/2018: A Log
You were a stranger to sorrow: therefore Fate has cursed you. —Euripides, Alcestis. It is a struggle to wake up: mostly on days you are thoroughly accustomed to being alone in a house full of emptiness. My cousin and I cautiously lock the front door whenever we leave somewhere because we’re afraid of unwanted infiltration. …
13/03/2018: A Log
I woke up distant and resigned from my usual state of being, a state of pretence where I wake up not looking terrible in my face and my mother unsuspecting of anything wrong with me. Though sometimes, when it’s only us, she catches the whiff of my sadness like I am guilty of something; I …
12/03/2018: A Log
It is supposedly a college day; however I find myself tucked away from sunlight, probably because the sun, while benign, feels deceptive and false here; while as the spring is approaching on its hooves rather soon. I’m home and I’m looking at the world through a wooden frame: a window and a room full of …