November 16, 2004 – 4:27 am
“In the airports we were born. We know the story,
but … we will not die in the harbors”
Samih Al Qasem
My dear diary, what if my father were to read this? And what if my mother were to read this as I disrobe letter by letter before their very eyes? Would they discover my secret or would they believe this to be fiction not related to reality in any way? I’m afraid it may sadden them to discover how lost I am, how afraid I am of my present, of my future, of a heritage I inherited not by choice, within an existence where I ask myself everyday: when will my life begin? Read More »
October 26, 2002 – 12:09 pm
He came home and threw his heavy school bag by the entrance in a gesture rendering all the books and knowledge it carried worthless. He grabbed my hand and dragged me behind him like a criminal to his room. He closed the door without saying a word and made me sit on his bed next to him.
We sat in silence, but I could hear his thoughts ricocheting like bullets around the walls of his mind, until finally, his whole being was about to be ripped apart in his restless search for a shelter from the simple, three-word question; What am I? Read More »
