The World According to Abufares of Tartous

The smell of fresh coffee wafted to the balcony where I stood mesmerized by the dancing shadows. Budding roses in a pot trembled to the caress of a breeze. A bank of fog lightly veiled the silent sky above but I could feel it, rain was coming our way. I gulped my coffee, put on cotton pants, a t-shirt and a pair of old trainers and descended the stairs two steps at a time. Glancing at my watch I walked briskly toward the park. It was dawn. The city woke up yawning. As a wet cold fell over my shoulders I hastened my pace and winced in the drizzle. A mourning dove, then a few, hence a dozen followed by a covey from here and another from there cooed and took to the air. The fluttering of wings awakened my dream of a peaceful existence, of hope, and of freedom. Birds were meant to fly not to shed feathers in a cage, no matter how big the cage is and irrelevant of the goodness of the keeper. I stood still and stared at the soaring flock, drops of rain blinding me with ecstasy. I lo

I’m perched at land’s end. The water is captivating, almost as beautiful as your eyes, almost as enticing as the sway of your hips. I’m as far removed from the world as the unfathomable depths of my soul. The cradle of civilizations, desert, river and sea, the place I call home is awakening to the rumble of my identity. Whatever woes unfolded over the last few centuries are ripples on the surface of my perpetuity. The rise and fall of empires, the demise of the orient, the ascendancy of the northern tribes, the holocausts that laid the trail westward are only blemishes on my olive skin. I’m not a king, nor was meant to be. I’m the humble, proud, complacent, fierce, forgiving, fanatic man who’s been through it before. I was there from the very beginning and will remain when all are gone.   The breeze fondles my short bang. I close my eyes and breathe your eternity, your absoluteness, your omneity.  The air around gathers its strength. It turns into a wind without direction and