Blog on hold due to sluggishness and lethargy associated with what appears to be a avian-swine-seasonal-another-bunch-of-stuff flu.

And because I have bad lungs, the latest weather twist really got to me.

Pray that I don’t see the white light or something.

Until I get better isA.

Don’t worry though, this is me every winter.

Cold limbs, fever and lots of sneezing.

And lots of sleeping!

Farewell, see you in the great havens!!!

Part 1 | Part 2

From inside a circle of people, he stood up. But to me, he rather stood out. I leaned my head slightly to the right, playfully put my hands around my waist, and followed by compassionate looks, I emitted a sincere smile. Ibhog fumbled his hands in his pockets, shrugged his shoulders joyfully, and grinned. Then sighed. Then drew me loving eyes. Hopeful eyes. Then sad again!

I’ve always believed that healing my deep insecurities would only come by revealing them to a different heart than mine. That my fears would tumble down if my army had more than one soldier. That my life will be easier if I had someone else’s arms to pull back into whenever hits get stronger than me. That being alone in this world, fearing alone, doubting alone, crying alone and even laughing alone, would be condemned, had life itself been symbolized in a person – to judge – of some measure.

That is why, secrets, and though were at times on the verge of breaking me and ibhog completely apart, made us who we are now. When we look into each others’ eyes, we see transparent figures, we see hues of angelic colors, we see no faces or masks, we see no walls or bricks, but, we see souls, we see souls with all the peace, the composure and the utter silence they shine.

When you’re holding on to a secret, it holds you down. You feel crippled and cringed. You do not feel free. There’s always a bar. There’s always a line. There’s always a hand clamping down on your fountain. It suffocates you. It makes you think more and speak less than your companions. And it intimidates you out of opening up to anybody. You look at the world from a small narrow window.

Until at one day. One cloudy day. One fateful hour. You find yourself standing under the shadows of an old tree. Stranded in a park with dying leaves falling all over around you. And with each gust of air. With each whimper of pain. With each tear twinkling on your face. You feel utterly bewildered and vulnerable. But mostly, you crave redemption from that bar. From that line. You convince yourself in a whim, that it’s about time you cross over. It’s about time you .. tell.

Ibraheem was there for me when I wanted out under my tree. He was my salvation. I spent two years crushing down my fears with the axe of his love, understanding and compassion. He was the stranger fellow we all wish we had on a plane up in the sky. Eternal conversations. Heavenly feelings between the clouds. With the safety that it all goes away once we land down. When we land, all takes place and form again. Fear returns. Doubt reigns. Reality creeps.

Me and ibhog. We never landed. We are up there in the clouds. All the time.

And that was why he smiled when he could see me. I picked him up from the earth. And we flew all over atop of the world again. He sighed of relief. He hoped we’d stay in our white cloud. But just when he was about to speak with me. He remembered.

Reality. He was in the room. He was at work. He could still hear shrieks of people all around. He could feel the earth below his own feet. So, he wearily looked at me with sad eyes that are tired of life and cooed: “Please be real soon, Noha”. His watered eyes filled mine with tears when he writhed inside before uttering again: ” .. please.”

I walked across the room, reached very close to him. My small figure against his masculine form. I tip-toed. Put my hand on his cheek. Smiled with my sagged eyes. Kissed his face. And said: “I will be ya Ibraheem”.

“Very soon”

“Very very soon”

.. doesn’t it?

This is why I don’t like the cold, it slows things down.

It slows me down!

just catch up with the reading and stop whining ibhog,

In WordPress, there’s this really cool feature where you can find a list of terms ‘people used to find your blog’ by day, week, month and so on. So I skimmed the lists and was .. well .. surprisingly entertained! Search engines do weird stuff! You compare ba2a this to my posts! LOL!

Now this is really funny:

10. “retarded kids” – thanks, we’re all flattered sir!

9. “i want both of them” – for half the price you mean?

8. “random man into woman” – the story of life?

7. “full details of what make a good drama” – that’s really not good for my ego!

6. “egyptian sexuality 2009″ – la2 3andena 2008 bass 7adretak wel 3adad ma7dood.

5. “what does mesh 3arfa mean” – it means ennaha mate3rafsh!

4. “abdelhay shahin bus” – aywah aywah enfagar men yomen 3al sa7rawy.

3. “3eryana.on.ma” 20 times!! – we7eyat on.ma k?!

2. “معفن يعني عربي؟” – eh da? meen 2allak?! bass balash ta3meem bardo.

And behold, the most hilarious of all time:

1. “ana 3ayza sex” – rabena m3aky ya mama we yeddeky else77a keda! we rabena ma3 Google of course!!

–

Ana mesh 3aref amsek nafsy men el de7k!

Are you with or against censorship?

Books and movies typically, do you like it when their content is censored?

Why?

And btw, think partial attempts (that end up being futile) to control the media versus what we can’t wholly attain, we don’t wholly discard.

Practice versus theory.

Reflexively compelling/enticing restraints?

Also, censored or banned?

More on that later,

.. stay the way you are .. please!

Palm trees are swaying on the sight of me outside in the park right now, and it’s so rural it makes me want to relax on the green with a hat tipping over my eyes.

I’m listening to Coldplay saying “it’s such a perfect day” in their ‘Strawberry Swing’ song!!

Inhale

Exhale.

Smile.

Post!

“مش عارف شكلنا كدا هنخسر”

آه في الماتش , و يا ريتني ما نطقت قدام الواد , لأن اذ فجأة لقيته اتحول للست اللي بتبيع الخضار و اتفتحت فيا كأني سرقت أم حزمة البقدونس و طلعت أجري!! ايه دااااا!!! لا يا حبيييبييي , انت مش مصري و لا مش مصري؟ انت ازاي تقول هنخسر؟ اوعى تقول كدا تاني أبدا كفاية اللي احنا فيه يا أخي , دا بدل ما تدعيلهم يفوزوا و يتأهلوا و يفرحوا الناس , أنا مش متخيل ان في ناس زيك بتكره البلد كده , فين الانتماء؟ فين الوطنية؟ فين العاطفة القومية و التشجيع؟ فين حب الوطن؟

حبك برص يا اخي منك له لها له!! يا مساكين يا متخلفين يا شوية بجم و لا عندكو ريحة الدم و لا الإحساس

في ناس واخدة الموضوع بجد و كأننا داخلين حرب أفريقية هنتنازع فيها على موارد الغاز الطبيعي و الحديد و الدهب. تلاقي ناس عاملة شعارات نازلة شتايم و تريقة في الجزاير و ناس تانية بترد!! بترد على دول بشعارات بتبين فيها حبها للجزاير , و كأن احنا كنا بنكره الجزاير قبل الماتش , و الفيز بوج ايه بأه  يا ابيه .. مسخرة أنوية .. دا انا لو من الناس اللي عملت الفيس بوك دا هقطع خاصية الجروبز و الفان بيجز دي عن االمصريين و هكتب رسالة بتقول: “امشي يابني العب بعيد , لما تعرف تلم نفسك و تعقل كدا يبقى تعالى , و احمد ربك ان في مكان يلمك انت و البروفايل السخيف بتاعك” و هتبقى بالأحمر

جروب اسمها حبة تاتة هنشيل الجزاير تلاته – الله يخيبكوا اكتر مانتو خايبين يا أخي , و ناس عاملة صورة تهلك من الضحك (والعياط في نفس الوقت) اسمها ارقصي يا خضرة – محدش شاف خيبتك يا مصر

و لا استنو بقه دا البوست لسا ما بدأش أصلا عشان انا لسه جوايا كتير قوي .. قوي قوي حسبي الله و نعم الوكيل لأن انا لما فكرت شوية في اللي انا هكتبه دا اتخضيت انما ايه خضة بشعة بشعة يعني  – بكسر الباء و سكون الشين يا فندم لزوم العربي  .. آه

كام مرة سمعت و احد بربنط مش فاهم هي اتحسبت ازاي أصلا بيقوللك احنا لازم نفوز تلاته عشان نتأهل و التركيز و التخفيف و التسخين و التبريد و البسترة على كلمة لازم

لازم؟ لاااازم مرة واحدة؟؟؟

عارفين دي حاجة تبكي ليه؟ عارفين ليه الكلمة دي بالذات وجعتني في قلبي؟ و حزت في نفسي؟ هه؟ هاااه؟ محدش عايز يرد

عشان دي كلمة أصلا ملهاش اي معنى ولا لزمة – كلمة خفيفة على عقولنا احنا الشعب المتخلف الاستهلاكي العاجز الكسلان , الشعب بتاع الكلام و الشعارات و العواطف اللي في الهوا بس , الشعب اللي بيحب يكرر الكلام طول ما في معيز بتسمع , الشعب اللي قاعد على القهاوي يتكلم في نفس الموضوع (ايا كان) هوا هوا كل يوم! كل يوووم!! و بعدين نروح البيت بعد الفجر

تيجي نتكلم في كلمة لازم؟ تيجي كده نشغل دماغنا اللي هيا خسارة فينا أصلا و نشوف “لازم” بتاعتك دي مكانها فين أصلا؟؟ لا زم دي المفروض تتقال فين؟

خد عندك بأه كده بالصلاة على النبي (الله! ماتصلو عليه امال) ايوه كده

احنا لازم بأه نتكسف على دمنا و نتخذ موقف من موضوع الحوادث اللي بتموت الناس دي , عايز رأيي؟ الناس بتاعت السفن اللي بتغرق و القطرة اللي بتخبط في بعضها و الطرق اللي متكسرة و المباني اللي بتقع دي .. الناس دي لازم يطردو بره البلد ,  و من غير فلوس ,  و ياريت يريحونا و ياخدو حتى جنسيات تانية عشان يتمسحو من التاريخ و ما يسودوهوش أكتر ما هوا اسود و منيل بستين نيلة. لازم يا إما نذاكر و نتشطر و نحكم احنا الآلات و الحاجات الكبيرة دي بنفسنا ,  يا إما نلم فلوس و نأجر حد من بره بيفهم . مش نقعد نضيع و قت في التحقيق و التفحيص و التزفيت اللي احنا فالحين فيه دا – و دا أهم و ألزم من ان مصر تكسب الجزاير تلاته

احنا لازم نحوش حبة تشجيع من اللي احنا قاعدين نوزعهم دول على السينما و الكورة  للعلماء المصريين اللي عايشين بره في الغربة (و عايشين جوه حتى في الغربة والله) , لازم نبين لهم أد ايه احنا محتاجينلهم هنا , لازم نقف معاهم عشان اللي هما عايزينه يتحقق بأه , و لازم نفتكر و نعيط على اللي ماتو و بيموتو منهم و احنا ولا دريانين , و لازم نفكر نفسنا و ولادنا بيهم و نستفيد بيهم و بعلومهم في جامعاتنا و مؤسساتنا على أد ما نقدر , لازم نفتكر نقرا ليهم و ندرس لهم , و لازم نحافظ على ثقافتهم و تراثهم في وسط التراب و الزبالة بتاعت اللي بيسموه ثقافة وزفت فن اليومين دول – و دا أهم و ألزم من ان مصر تكسب الجزاير تلاته

احنا لازم نعيد موضوع مهم زي انفلونزا الخنازير للتليفيزيون عشان بصراحة مش مطمن للخرس اللي حصل دا , دا في مدارس في الأقاليم رجعو الدراسة بقت كل يوم – الناس بره بتأجل بالتيرم و احنا العيال بقت بتروح كل يوم , اتشل طيب انا يعني و لا اتشل؟ حد يقوللي. انا كان عاجبني المذيعين و الصحفيين الحمشين من شهرين , رحتو فين؟ و بعدين الحج داخل أهو و برده قاعدين نسكت في بعض. و لا استنو بأه بالمرة دا احنا لازم احنا اللي نتحكم في التليفيزيون مش التليفيزيون اللي يتحكم فينا – مش نبقى بنهلل كدا لأي موضوع مالهوش لازمة زي النقاب و زي بيونسيه و من غير يونسيه – اه نصحصح كدا امال. عملتو ايه في القطر؟ اشتريتو حاجة جديده نركبها؟ طب و مين هيمسكها المرة دي؟ – و كل هذا يا عزيزي المواتن المسري أهم و ألزم .. احم .. من ان مصر تكسب الجزاير تلاته

احنا لازم نلم فلوس الزكاه! اه شفتو بأه .. كلنا ناسيينها دي , و لا استنو لحسن واحد علماني ييجي يعضني دلوقتي في البلوج بتاعي , استنى يا عم , ما اقصدش أخدش حياء سيادتك بكلمة متزمتة و متعصبة زي الزكاه , أقصد نلم فلوس من اللي بيهبرو في البلد و نديها للفقرا اللي مش لاقيين ياكلو (أسمع واحد يقوللي جزيه قسما عظما هبعتله قنبلة في السلك تفجرله الشاشة وتحفره في المنور عندهم تحت عشان أنا ما بحبش الغباوة) , دا ربنا بيحب الكرم يا أخي , و مش عيب , في اختراع اسمه فانضضضريزنج (شفت بعرف انجليزي اهو) و في حاجة اسمها منظمات حقوق الانسان .. لول! دا في حاجة اسمها منظمات الرفق بالحيوان سيادتك. المهم يعني فين الأنشطة الانسانية ايا كانت مسمياتها؟ احنا مستنيين يعني لحد ما اللحمة تبقى بمية جنيه؟ مش الناس دي لازم تعيش هيا كمان و لا ايه؟ ايه دا ثانية واحدة! هوا اللي هينام جعان دا مين مسئول عنه؟ يالهوي! ربنا يستر علينا يوم القيامة والله دا احنا هنتروق – يا ترى مصر لازم تكسب الجزاير و لا لازم تأكل عيالها عدل الأول؟

يا هل ترى .. انا محتاج اتكلم عن اللي لازم يحصل في التعليم؟ ممكن لو سمحت تجيبولي دكتور يعرف حاجة مفيدة غيره انو يقرالي انجليزي في المحاضرة (انا بتاع قمبيوطر حضرتك معلش خدني على اد عقلي) أو دكتورة أصلا تعرف انجليزي عدل عشان تدرسلي صح؟ ممكن لو سمحت توشوفلنا حل في الطلبة اللي بتقعد على الأرض اذا كانت بتقعد أصلا؟ ممكن لو سمحت مدارس الثانوي تتطور شوية و نحاول نتستخدم المؤهلات الغير الجامعية استخدام واعي زي ما كل الدول بره ما بتعمل؟ ممكن عشان خاطري تشيلو أسئلة عرف و قارن من الامتحانات عشان خلاص الجيل كله جالو تخلف والحمد لله؟ شكرا

في كام حالة طلاق في مصر؟ في كام حالة جواز عرفي؟ و لاَ عارف؟ انا رجعت في كلامي لأن في حاجة أوكس منهم أصلا , عارف ايه هي؟ في كام حالة جواز تعيس في مصر؟ هي دي اكبر مصيبة , اوكس من كل حاجة انك تبقى عايش بتموت من جواك و الناس فاكرة ان انت متجوز و مستقر و مبسوط. مش احنا لازم ندرس الظواهر المرعبة دي؟ هوا مش زي ما فيه اقتصاد و صناعة و اتصالات في حاجة اسمها ناس و مجتمع بردو؟ فين المربيين؟ فين القدوة؟ فين اي حاجة ليها علاقة بإن احنا نتعلم نعيش حياتنا صح؟ في كام واحد مصري حاسس انه هوا مشتاق لبكرة لأنه بيحب حياته؟ (على فكرة السؤال اللي فات دا بجد لما تفكر فيه شوية ممكن يخليك تدمع) في كام واحدة قتلت جوزها و حرقته؟ و في كام واحد موت عياله؟ و كام واحد انتحر و خطف واغتصب؟ مش السرطان دا المفروض يهز البلد دي كدا بطولها و عرضها و يتقعدلو ناس بتفهم تشوف حلول عملية و سريعة؟ كفاية كدا لأن النقطة دي أصلا جابتلي اكتئاب يا بتاع التلات نقط يا عديم الإحساس

—

البوست طولت , بس المهم انتو فهمتو انا عايز أوصل ايه .. حاجة بسيطة خالص .. كلمة لازم دي ما لهاش غير حتة واحدة بس تتحط فيها: الناس لازم تتغير و ركزوا لو سمحت أنا بقول النااااس مش البلد و لا النظام عشان اللي يقوللك البلد دي لازم تتغير دا طرشجي و الدليل انه هو لسه بيهمبك في كل حته وماضربش و ما اختفاش – تتغير ازاي فهمني والناس لسا زي ما هيا؟؟؟. الناس هيا اللي لازم تتغير الأول , الناس لازم تتعلم تبقى ناس بحق و حقيقي و تعقل كدا و لازم يبصو لنفسهم باحترام و تقدير والله , لازم نحب نفسنا الأول عشان نعرف نحب اي حاجة هنعملها او هنصلح بيها نفسنا و بلدنا

هاه؟ أنا اللي مش وطني؟ و لا انت اللي مغفل؟ اسمعك تاني تتسايس كدا زي بياعة الخضار الشوارعجية قاعد تزعق و تردح عال الماتش و تعيط زي النسوان و تكسر الدنيا لما نخسر في الكورة؟ تبقى ايه بأه؟ المفروض نعمل فيك ايه بالضبط؟ شوف انت يعني .. لو بإيدي و بعد الكلام و المحاضرة المملة بتاعتي دي و لسه ما اتعدلتش يبقى المفروض تتحرق الصراحة , أو تضرب بالكرباج زي زمان ايام الاحتلال عشان تفوق , اه تخيل الكرباج خلانا شطنا الانجليز بالشلوت بره البلد – حاجة مضحكة دي مش كده؟ ما بنفوقش إلا لما بناخد على قفانا

بلاش انفعال على الفوز و الخسارة في الكورة  و خلليه في حاجات تانية ألزم و أهم لو سمحت

لازم نفوووووق! .. يا بتاع لازم

]]> http://ibhog.wordpress.com/2009/11/01/lazem-lazem/feed/ 6 ibhog http://ibhog.wordpress.com/2009/10/29/yours-truly-is-an-ex-ta/ http://ibhog.wordpress.com/2009/10/29/yours-truly-is-an-ex-ta/#comments Wed, 28 Oct 2009 23:34:03 +0000 ibhog http://ibhog.wordpress.com/?p=2544 ]]>

Now I’ve always enjoyed scorning those who give me the optimist (excessively tolerant) face about this country and the mentality that says how we all should kiss its ass to show love and sympathy, how we should withdraw our criticism, sarcasm and ‘negative energy’, and just ‘accept things the way they are’ – note that last point please.

I feel I need to vent now so the HELL WITH IT! You’re free to judge me.

My SAD EXCUSE of a university, put my name in a ‘TA candidacy list’, and the college personnel hung it somewhere hnak (you’d think we go there every day, I don’t know why, but they always assume that we’re a bunch of unemployed people who keep going to college). And one morning, I find out that a very considerate colleague published the effing list on .. wait for it .. FACEBOOK! Loolooleey .. Ibraheem Hamdi and THIRTEEN others should attend immediately to post graduate affairs (or whatever) to receive notifications concerning their candidacy (gawab el tarshee7 men rasha7a tarshee7an).

So, I go like, afandem! na3am! What happened to mail? what happened to phones? what happened to ay haga lellah tayeb. Apparently, recruitment notifications only (gawab el ta3yeen men 3ayana ta3yeenan) get sent by mail. And, you’d guess, that was the first time I knew about that very critical detail – very ambortant ya3ny.

But to send our contacts to training centers all around, and tease our days with calls about freaking ICDL certifications, or swamp our mailboxes with the most inept and stupid English language courses newsletters – 3ady!

Anyway.

I thanked the guy for his concern and started to consider, I was ranked the 7th on my department last year, but due to the academic decay that our college has been cursed with along the years, the class next to us etwakaso beshwayet dakatra ya3ny mesh 3aref a2ool eh. So, 4 of them only could beat my GPA, so after accumulating the two classes together, I was ranked the 5th.

Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

There’s many things to take into account, if I take the TA job, that would mean I’ll either have to switch to part time, or work extra hours. Also, a career switch has been in my mind for quite some time, it helps with patience (you know farag and his story?), and I’ve said here before that I really need to leave software soon, because its affecting me vehemently. So, to be a computer science teaching assistant (choosing to add that to my life now, more of) didn’t feel right with me wanting to become a writer one day, it was like, you know, going the opposite direction!

Not two days after that, and I receive a phone call from a fellow TA who was in charge of the labs/sections schedule – she told me that a reply from my side about accepting/declining el tarshee7 is needed very urgently. How urgent? yareet today because they need the schedule by tomorrow. La 7awl wala qowata ella bellah! Begadd ya3ny!

I said no. Period.

She, very thoughtfully, offered me Sunday in the schedule so that I would plan myself, but work was tight as it is, my time slots have been bombarded with sudden visits and errands since forever. And to go up to my manager and tell him Sunday is off because I’m a TA all of a sudden keda, with lay offs taking place already, it was kinda scary.

She told me that I have to write a document to waive the position, tailed by my signature and deliver it to the department secretary, a thing I’m too lazy to do, even though I was near college for two times this week. [I passed by it actually, bass I was never in the mood to go in - it's ominous keda!]

So, long story short, TA actually came to me! Dad, be proud!

What do you think I should have done? I don’t know, bass I feel comfortable about it that way. I’m not in the mood for more action in my life. Even if it would be exciting, it’s not the one I need.

On a totally different thought. I’ve been having a writing block I couldn’t finish some drafts, and it’s kinda a weird, I’ve been wrestling with this very post! Words are FLYING away from me! Yuck.

Oh, it’s a sign. I should read more. Which reminds me, what the hell is happening to free time? I used to have loads of that, and now I can’t even get myself to watch a movie until its end!

Yalla good nightz!

Be honest with yourself and others. God will guide you to honest people. And you won’t have to worry about a thing.

Period.

media: so much for solving the right problem .. AGAIN,

[Remember school Logic: Jane lies. Jane says she's a virgin. Jane could be deceitful. Jane does not lie. Jane says she's a virgin/or not. Life goes on]

[Now, compare the gravity of dishonesty to that of adultery - think for a while, you'll be surprised]

Part 1 | Part 2

Saw when it rained two days ago?

I felt Ibraheem was having a bad morning that day, his work is constantly becoming an ailment, and he complains to me about it during tea and coffee, day and night. He hates those errands to clients. I said to myself: “Give the man some fresh perspectives”. So, I wake up, nudge Lobna for school, fix her breakfast, make her braids using her favorite pink ribbons, help her get dressed. I go by the window to check the weather, I find it strangely different than the days before! And I tell myself that romance in in the air.

I get back. Put on my coat, make sure she’s warm herself. Accompany her to the elevator, go all the way down, wait beside her for the school bus. The bus honks, Lobna gives me a hug, jumps playfully on the stairs, get tucked by her teacher in a chair, wave to me goodbyes, sends kisses in the air, and as I watch her go I look up at the sky and pray for rain. As I’m observing those mighty clouds, marching as great knights watching over the city, I feel the swiftness of a wind blow, that suggests emotions of a flying person. And though they were leaves and dust flailing around me, to me they were pictures of red and yellow petals, and it felt as if my beige coat suddenly turned into a white cloak, and I could see my hair stretching behind me from the sides of hopeful eyes. If it weren’t for reality’s thump upon my chest, or for the suffering of my nostrils against the smell in the air, I would’ve stretched my arms wide wiiide open, and just .. knelt down to the air and wished for it to take me away.

My experience ended that way. I returned up stairs, picked Ibraheem’s favorite outfit, the one he saw me wearing when we met for the second time after a long pause, when he told me: “Girls in skirts are more feminine, and they look way more delicate and weightless, just like breeze”, and not that I love this dress, but something about his smiles elevates me. I made a call for work and told them I need the day off. No one sacrifices a sky like this for a day in a closed, dull office, one that is full of clatter and people making silly remarks about life – and, well, a whiny boss, or the dead silence under the inauthentic coldness of an AC with gloomy sounds.

I was too deep in thoughts I don’t know how I got to where ibhog was, either I drove, or his craving for Noha teleported me to where he was. But I was resolute I have missed him dozens. Poor ibhog, the building was nothing short for filthy, the stink of detergents mixed with the grime on wall corners was a recipe for depression, a special one dedicated to assassinate mornings. I walked slowly, through the flights of stairs, and I could already feel the noise in his soul from before I reach the room he was sitting in. He was sending vibes through doors and walls I swear I could locate him using only their remnants on the skin of my face. I reached a long corridor, I was panting. I took a pause with a deep breath, wiped my face with my own hands, put on a smile and strolled forward.

With every step, sounds get louder and tension gets heavier in the air. I finally entered the room and watched his own battle, the one he was so busy with he didn’t even notice me; he was sitting behind his small computer screen, surrounded by 4 people. I could feel how one sided the discussion was, he was like a goal keeper, receiving hits from everywhere. His untempered companions in the room urged him and rushed him in ways he’s not used to, his assignments were quite far from his own league, but his wits and persistence defended his stand.

I felt happy with my ibhog, he had his iron clad, fined with indifference towards the world, it was as if he could still breath with no air. His invincible disposition in the center of the room made him no less than its own emperor. Labor would come to him to receive orders due, to fix issues evident in the system that he governs. Confident, he would diminish any attempt from their side to accuse him of a fallacy in it. His logic was unbeatable. He sat in his shrine, stolid, indomitable. Simply running their existence.

But, dear Ibraheem, had a frown that sat unto his own strong bloom. One he tried dreadfully to hide. Lines on his face, stretched down to his mannish beard, conveyed fatigue. There was water in his eyes, and they were agitated. They made clear that behind his own castle, the king was having one of his down times. A part of him was perishing slowly, but he never gave up. There was a metal chain stuck in his chest, one that branched to all sides of the room, an edge for each one there. All pulling it very hard. But with each jerk that vibrated my world in pain for him, his muscles would clutch upon his heart, hold it very tight and knock them all down.

I felt I wanted to cry for how hard his prospect was, how despite all the strength, something could still give him sadness, but I stopped myself, and I stealthily made an appearance in the crowd before him. And among his glances here and there, trying to fix this and solve that, responding to him and answering to her. With his swift finger moves on the keyboard, and just when he sighed to renew his energy. He could see me.

To be continued,