twin sisters
I bought a piece of fabric that was part of a mother roll of fabric: the adjacent pieces got separated with scissors, and got shipped to different continents, and afterward to different households. My piece communicates with her sister every morning; then she whispers enchanting stories to me about that household where her sister enjoys the upholstered comfort of a couch in Singapore.
incubator
When you open your mouth and hear words come out of you involuntarily for the first time… words that have been in an incubator for a while, that you had heard many others say and write; and had been waiting for that right appropriate time for them to become yours … At first you don’t recognize your voice… it takes a few rounds for them to be accepted by your vocabulary… then all the other words line up to watch the new comer do a pledge to finally make it officially to their group. A celebration follows… When the new member had a bit too much to drink, and gets too relaxed in her new skin, she turns into metaphors and rolls in a bed of music and poetry.
gliding of the priviledged
You see me witnessing new manifestations of gliding. When you are privileged in a situation because of people you know, your parents’ names and achievements, your associations with places of power, this is gliding… when you get pushed with a momentum of which you are not directly aware… in swimming it is a previous effort you did that is pushing you; well deserved…
web design through a c pap
In my dream, while the c pap must have been giving away too much oxygen, I saw myself producing infinite sheets and screens of lace in some automatic patterns... fast like a gif being simulated on the spot... so fast can’t go wrong, circling and spiraling patters of off whites and pearls, with hiding niches of vacuum to alleviate the overworked patterns of rich and creamy curves. Then in the corner of my eye I oversaw a small black moving object some kind of a translucent busy hyper spider ... i first assumed it was a black spot in my vision... turned out it was a big small helper doing the work, to the rhythm of my generous c pap oxygen supplier . while I was just its assistant following in its footsteps...
…..
ornamenting ..solo pleasure
Ornamenting is the nicest part of the composition. When all set and
balanced, adding the ornaments before the guests appear at the door, before the show begins. You could add as many addends as you please, to your infinite fancy, as long as time permits... endless pearls and lace and rare buttons... since you are dressed already and ready to receive the spectators.
tangential enchantment
It seems that as soon as my brain calls for an image , it comes, then my brain gets enchanted by one of its peripheral ornamental properties, and in its excitement, more images of that pop, a chain of tangential enchantment, whose links are my secret, and my secret alone…
marriage of aromas
Morning sounds from whistling windows bring together tick tocking alarms mixed with coffee aromas and cream and sugar, hazelnut and cardamom and chocolate, … other sounds smell of teas and croissants; some tunes wake up to happy faces, hurrying up to beat the traffic to meet a lover; others not so happy, going to work, or to an exam, or a dreaded MRI, others are jet lagged struggling between time zones, ….. alarms get turned off by hands, extensions of warm pajamas, silky satin lingerie, or rough overalls, or sometimes sweat suits, ..the day is on..
long lost
I found a drawer with a pile of to do lists placed there since 1964.. They were of different grades of colors on the finish line.. “About to be finished.. closed for good.. Relocated.. Moved for lease.. rented to be leased, leased to be bought,… Leased to be finished.. Sublet to my offsprings.. Submitted for finishing.. Sold.. Rented.. Moved for lack of controlled Rent.. Moved nextdoor for dire reasons…” I started reading,… reshuffling… restoring and sorting… By the time I was about to get done, it was night life…
hanger at the museum
On that Saturday afternoon the museum was open for free for everyone for a special show. That hanger at the museum was ready, in the now remote city to get tickled by all those tops, jackets, coats and hoodies from all over the world. It was in a funny mood for colors and linens and suedes, saris and kimonos and. It dreamed of a velvety turquoise of a beautiful tall woman; it was sick of those black characterless trendy jackets. It looked for a Singapore or Japanese made style kimono that had covered the slim shoulders of a diva, or that had been previously worn by a grandmother of a refugee, or an ex inmate who had promised to visit that museum once born again, or that migrant student whose first visit was today or that foreign artist whose work was showing on the rear end of the last floor but that had advertised it to all his relatives in the village of another continent.. that hanger was so excited today..
What a whimsical and funky Saturday it was going to be for the hanger; it was hoping that it would not rain, for the feel of wet wool was a sticky feel… then it thought how wonderful it would be if 2 lovers escaping a workshop would again end their long day at the museum. It would love to get some proxy-passion feel toward closing time.. they would both be escaping reality for a short hour at the museum; usually their tops would be tangled in a blend of perfume, love and hot passion. On a clear day words of love would still be resonating from the seam of their collars toward the neck of love.. and so it goes that the hanger would keep their secret forever before they leave each to their home and never meet again. The hanger received their tangled coats with a wink wink, whispering that their secret will be kept forever in safe “hands.”
On that Saturday the hanger would anaerobically collect bits and pieces of unfinished episodes, to be edited later during the nights of the lazy weekdays to come where barely anyone museum visitors show up, except for those old men who were enjoying their almost free memberships, and who would mostly come to the museum to shelter from the rain away from their vacuous schedules. Take it easy you! Shouted the hanger to the not so welcoming cloak clerk who was getting tired and starting banging the garments onto out friends, for the lack of tips. Move I want to see who is the carrier of this lacy jacket.. I wonder if she had made it herself.. or was it her mom in the Czech republic. How beautiful this sari… oh.. I wonder .. love love all this collection of stories will keep me busy all of next week on those not so busy afternoons.. l How enchanting and beautiful life is in this city..
configuration
As if we have letters engraved under points of weakness in our bodies. Each time we grow or suffer, with every experience, be it happy or sad, we get to uncover one letter.. when all the letters are uncovered, our configuration is complete..
another next level
Just as you need to increase your heart rate daily through exercise to keep going, you should also indulge in conversations that increase your imagination rate, analysis rate etc… through new ideas.. otherwise you are boring, and bored, and your creation smell of rotten material, and your music is all in one octave, barely, uselessly repetitive,
the next level
Counterintuitive… we should keep a journal where we record what we consider to be counterintuitive. These are the moments at which we are expanding our assumptions to the next level… where we are less bored with ourselves..
my precious women/moms club
A special sisterhood developed with the moms of my kids’ friends and classmates from early years and elementary school. Like a solidarity among starngers in a happy detention camp. Our kids came to our world and we had no clue what to do with them. Are we doing the right thing? Are our feelings of Frustration Fear anxiety justified?? Are we making the right recipes? Are we being too sensitive? Too protective? We reach this parenting status with no direction. Our moms really come from a different world, so we cannot rely on their advice. So we develop this tight bonding with these women.. We are all in the same boat. I loved all my sisters. I felt so relieved when I saw them in the mornings, at drop off, at the many happy school events, that I would skip all the meetings in the world to attend; at pick up time, in the playgrounds after school. Seeing them made me feel specially relieved. As if my worries were all on a break. I learned how to relax, and feel good about parenting from them, along with making chocolate chip cookies, special holiday recipes (from Generous Ingrid), decorating the house for special seasons (from Solid Karin), cooking healthy and colorful stuff, decorating a balanced colorful lunchbox with proteins, vegetables, fruits and dairy (Suhaila and Hala), choosing games. Waiting for kids while having coffee reassured that our kids are safe and having fun on campus was the best way to spend afternoons. I put all my judgment, worries and questions to rest, while having coffee and oatmeal cookies at Elsa’s with many other relaxing mommies. Nothing mattered. Total worriless times. These sisters were my anchors. I miss them.
I love you Ruba, Suhaila, Lina (and Jad), Elsa, Claire, Ingrid, Hala, Lubna, Karin, Rima, Jetti, Bassima, Mira, Jennifer, Julia, Mayda, Anna, and many others for all your love and support. Now that the kids are grown, we retire. Now many of us are lost with an irrelevant identity.
fried onions
That dull building in the dull alley, with a very ordinary entrance suddenly did not look boring anymore: the smell of onions and the dancing balloons on the balcony lifted it up in my eyes, and raised it to a non routine weekday lunch. I imagined the celebratory mood and colorful plates dancing in the normally uninteresting apartment which make it an out of the ordinary day.. I saw myself setting the table, choosing colors with care.. and making the noon and afternoon time a not so predictable day.
deep death
Imagine if you have been working for a dream, and by the time you are ready to execute it, your facilities have been curbed or burned on the way there.. or you became overqualified to run your dream café, or you got too tired to stand all day.. then you had to do a detour, just to discover that you had lost your compass, because you used it on the way… it is worse than death
a last season
Tonight in my dream I had to choose a last season to live… would it be Christmas? Would it be spring? I had to choose only one for the last time.
I tried to negotiate… like to redefine what a season meant. Unfortunately, it was very clear
forced sync?
Just like with age, spouses may develop differently, or aspire to different directions, our body, brain and heart with age may want to go in different directions, and their capacities may get curbed… they go about trying to adapt to new times without always consulting together. Tonight I am calling them all for a meeting…
stretching loved times
I know it is vacation time. I know it is time for me to start executing the ideas I had labeled as items for vacation”. Instead, here I am collecting more items and classifying them in sophisticated differentiating tables…
Why is it that the thought of a weekday lunch invitation at a house, in fancy setting so appealing? It ups my senses. It reminds me of underrated luxury and bounty? Of off routine eligibility?
Since I love morning time because this is when I am energetic, and alive, I decided to stretch that period throughout the day… and even use my skills to wrap it around in a retract compactification style.
age shift
Suddenly while crossing the street cautiously and slowly for fear of falling, I smile when I see myself, like my mom, lifting my hand like hers, signaling to the drivers to slow down… Like her, I get the respect she used to get. I have definitely been welcome to the other side of life..
As I was early for my appointment, I started walking very slowly; suddenly I can smell the aromas that differentiate balconies and windows. Fried onions, garlic, perfume, tobacco, jasmine, detergents, each tell the household stories.