A voice smooth and uncoiling singing to Abdulhalim, crackling when it tried to get the high notes. Like wood in a fireplace lit on a silvery blue snowy evening on the only day of the year that the country snowed. Singing waves of crumbling notes, soothing songs of white joyful lies. Songs of motherhood. LikeContinue reading “Like Wood in a Fireplace”
Category Archives: Pain
Corduroy
A story about an 11 year old boy’s small thoughts spurred by the feeling of corduroy fabric on his skin. A feeling that kept strangely and interestingly coming back in the form of memories and dreams at the age of twenty, the almost-age of fifty and his final year of nintey-two. A story that remainedContinue reading “Corduroy”
The Blue Jay and the Red-tailed Hawk
It was rather enchanting, how I died. I was hovering above their heads when they wrote with a blue bic ballpoint pen that it was from natural causes. But I am certain it wasn’t that. We never just die from the cause; other things mark the real ending. And even then, it’s not quiet aContinue reading “The Blue Jay and the Red-tailed Hawk”
Quote
Now if only we knew that knowing is always partnered with not knowing, all would have been better than it has become. Beisan A. Alshafei May 11th, 2019
Fire Island Scribbles -2-
A cloudy humid day for smudgy Maybelline mascara. For Haruki Murakami’s maze of people and indirect insults. For imagining a world without women. For allowing oneself to imagine a world without women. For really not being so self-centred. For letting oneself not think about oneself. For broken Havaianas and lazy drags of flip-flopped feet alongContinue reading “Fire Island Scribbles -2-“
Rock Bottom
It’s past midnight now. After hours of online research with the commercial tunes of the latest Albanian hits playing from YouTube for inspiration, another good portion of my brain is officially numbed to render me calm and useless for work. I am sitting on the edge of the low windowsill with the window open, lookingContinue reading “Rock Bottom”
To Pour Out
… and then to just pour out of the cracked cup. Not from the rim like most people do – no – rather you’d be slowly tick tocking, drip dropping, out of the cup from the ruggedness of the crack. You won’t be so watery like most people are; you’d be thick like the consistentContinue reading “To Pour Out”
Fired Up by a Thought
Fired up by the thought that a vitamin can heal, she woke up that morning and prepared for a meal. Some eggs with some vegetables, some fruits in a bowl. And a pot-full of porridge to nourish her soul. ** As she stood in her kitchen, her heart beat so fast. Why am I anxious?Continue reading “Fired Up by a Thought”
And Just Like That
And just like that, my love for him swelled, it overflowed over the rim of its cup and poured all over the table like a large boundless map of a suddenly borderless unknown world, which I newly marked here, and there, and here, and at the far end of it down there where Australia usedContinue reading “And Just Like That”
Beisan's Burble 