Showing posts from November, 2007


Like a charging elephant, shot between the eyes, summer stumbled forward and fell in a cloud of dust. The silky shifts of Tishreens *, weathered by the harsh sun, blown away by overdue storms vanished from a cruel calendar. The opulence of an oil painting, fat with hues of yellow and loud with shades of blue swiftly altered to a harsh charcoal sketch of a dead chill. The subtlety of a water-colored autumn landscape lost in these times of common strife and personal ache. Would the pastels of spring ever survive, or will they too fall victim to the brutality of a heavy adamant winter? Only extremes, like idiots and thugs, seem fit for survival. I have no place to go, no time to be. It’s not all about beginnings and ends. The man with the creased forehead sitting there at a corner in the cafĂ© had a mother once who combed his hair and tucked his shirt in. He had kissed the girl next door behind the blue shutters when they both were ten. He had walked under a rainbow and danced in the ra


I have nothing further to add. At least I'm honest and admit what's really on my mind.

Lost At Sea

With the advent of the gray months, when the fury of the sea begins to simmer then bursts into a boil, Tartous braces itself for expected yet never acceptable losses. Shortly after leaving port in the Black Sea and loaded with 10,000 tons of steel, " Haj Ismail ", the ship, came face to face with a ferocious storm not far from the Ukrainian-Russian shoreline. The Georgian flagged vessel is truly Syrian at heart. Manned by 17 seamen of our own, she was sailing home to Tartous. The deranged sea toyed with her making her pitch high and low against the onslaught of gigantic waves and strong winds, then on an impluse split her in two. Within moments, she vanished in the abyss with all souls onboard except for two. Bassel Aga of Lattakia and Khodr Yahia of Tartous, were the only two survivors who made it to shore in the freezing water and the giant swells. They stayed afloat by sheer strong will and an extraordinary twist of fate as they were on deck the moment tragedy str


Life, grossly overrated, I find. " Senora Melissi " in " The Mystery of the Blue Train " by Agatha Christie An unexpected guest, Weltschmerz knocked on my door. He removed his shoes, loosened his tie then slumped heavily on the chair across. It seemed that he'll be my companion for a while, uninvited. This past week has been hectic yet drudgingly boring. I've driven to Amman , Jordan and back to Tartous for a 72-hour trip. I've been to new places and met fresh faces that I can't remember anymore. I took the semi-quotidian drive to Lattakia several times and despite the welcomed changes in weather and foliage, I failed to respond to external stimuli. I had more than my share of drinks and dinners, of weddings and funerals, yet I couldn't react on the emotional level. I seem to be impermeable to the colorful pleasures or the grim pains of an unbending reality. Hours give way to days, weeks to months, years to decades. I am married with childre