أنا أسمي سامي.........أه رويداااااااااااااااااا ياههههههههههه كانت أيام
بصراحة مفيش حاجة أقدر أقولها على الموضوع ده
أهي أيام

Rowayda

أنا اسمي رويدا، عندي 30 سنة، بس حاسة كأن أيام حياتي كلها ما عدتش سنتين، دول الأيام اللي قضيتها مع سامي، قبل .....قبل ما ....آمممم قبل ما يموت، هو مات بس بالنسبة لي لكن هو
في الحقيقة متجوز و عنده ولد و بنت ، أنا متكلمتش معاه من أكتر من اتناشر سنة دلوقتي و مش عاوزة أكلمه أصلا ، هو دلوقتي مش هو، و أنا مش أنا ، أهنا الاتنين أتولدنا من ارباعتاشر سنة و
عشنا سنتين في الجنة و بعدين اتنفينا للأرض، بس أنا مش زعلانة، أنا باشكر ربنا أنه اداني السنتين دول اللي كانوا اللحظات الوحيدة في حياتي اللي حسيت فيهم بمعنى الحياة و الحب.
ناس كتير كانوا ضضنا و معارضين علاقتنا ببعض، بس اهنا فعلا ماكناش بنعمل أي حاجة خطيرة، كنا مع بعض أغلب الوقت مش أكتر، انا فاكرة لما كنت باسكت و انا مع سامي لثواني كان على طول
يسالني بأفكر في ايه كأنه حتى أفكاري ماكنش قادر يعيش من غيرها و لو لثواني، أنا فاكرة كان كل مرة يمسك ايدي و يمسح دمعتي كنت أحس أني كاملة و أني مش عاوزة أي حاجة تانية في الدنيا كلها.
ياما اتخانقنا و كنا الاتنين بنتقطع من جوة بس لما كنا بنتصلح كنا بنتولد من جديد، الغريبة أننا ماكناش محتاجين لا فلوس ولا بيت ولا عربية ولا أي حاجة كنا ساكنين في أفكار بعض و بنتنفس نبضات قلوب بعض
أنا فاكرة لما غرقنا بعض بالميه و قعدنا نضحك و لما كنا بنسأل عن أفكار بعض و مشاعر بعض و نشوف ناس و حاجات جديدة مع بعض كل يوم و حتلا لما نروح لازم نقعد نتكلم على التليفون لحد الصبح.
كل مرة كنت بقول أسم سامي كنت بحس بسعادة بسيطة مش معقدة و مفهيهاش كلام كتير ولا فلسفة و لا ماديات و كل ما كنت أسمعه بيقولي يا حبيبتي كانت روحي تترقص جويا من السعادة. أنا فاكرة كان كتير
صاحباتي بيفكروا في الجواز و الماديات و هاجات كتير كدة، أنا ماشلغش بالي أكتر من سامي، نفسه، روحه، وقته و ده كان كل اللي كنت عاوزاه منه، أنا فاكرة حته كننا نشوف الناس التانية و نضحك.
عامتان يا سيدي، هيه دي بقة قصة سامي اللي كنت عاوز تسمعها، استريحت دلوقتي

don't you wanna be happy

He was a priest
HE was also a human being
When he was a kid he used to get teased by people, and had so many pranks played on him, and was the subject of so many wedgies, he can't even remember
Everyone around him was happy
except him
happiness tanslated to testing your limits, be it physical, mental or social, of which he had none
untill that one day the biggest prank in history was played on him
he thought he'd finally be happy and accepted
he thought life had finally smiled at him and was accepted in society, and now he'd be invited to every party, and spend hours on the phone with hot girls, and have exciting adventures and just be stupid and have fun
but it wasn't the case
he can still remember what it felt like standing infront of all those parents with nothing on but a pink toto
Ah! yes! those girls who talked them into it were the creme de la creme of the school, and it was nothing but a little costume party and he thought they were hot for him, and just had weird fantasies, so he rolled along
but from that moment on, his quest for happiness took a different turn
he got his happiness from getting revenge
but not revenge at those who killed him
but at anyone who looked seemingly like them
he would push them to righteousness and earn their trust
then ravish them and unleas his deepest demons upon them
OH! waht joy that brought to his sick poor heart
to him it was no different than anyone else in life
everyone sought the same thing,
happiness
it just came in different packaging
and his was different and offensie to some, but nonetheless the objective was all the same

مع السلامة يا مصر

ياما وقفت على جنب في المطار باتفرج على اللي مسافر و اللي جاي، و ياما شلت شنط الغني و الغلبان، بس كنت دايما أستغرب الناس دي اللي زعلانة أنها سايبة مصر، يعني أنا بصراحة لو جتلي فرصة أطلع من المخروبة دي ما كنتش أستنيت لحظة، أما الأفلام اللي الناس دول بيعملوها عياط و نواح و أحضان و ناس زعلانة و ناس منهارة، بس عمري ما فهمت اذا كان الموضوع مضايقهم أوي كدة ما كنوش مشيوا أصلا ولا ايه ولا هوه دلع ماسخ و خلاص مش كفاية رايحين يجمعوا أكوام فلوس على قلبهم طب بيتمسكنوا ليه بقة

المهم بقة با جماعة لفت الأيام و دارت و لقيت نفسي لامم حاجتي و شادد الرحال ، صحيح أنا ياما شفت الناس اللي مسافرة و صحيح ياما أستغربتها، بس أنا دلوقتي فهمتها، نظرة أمي و هي ماسكة نفسها من العياط و منظر البوابة اللي بتضيق أكتر و تكتم على نفسي مع كل خطوة أخطوها، الناس اللي أدام مكاتب الطيران اللي ما بيعملوا أكتر من أنهم يزيدوا من غربتنا

في لحظة كل حاجة مالهاش معنى و كل حاجة مهمة و كل حاجة مش مهمة و كل حاجة قرفتني في عشتي و كل لحظة قرف و خنقة و احباط بقو حتة منيي بتتقطع و أنا سايبك يا مصر، مع السلامة يا مصر، مع السلامة

break

He returns home ... to the house of wood and stone
Everything is torn down and ravished by our brutal times

The stairs upon which he watched the sky
The tree under which he cried

He anxiously ran towards that corner of the garden
where an old fence resides

Started turning the earth ... as though there's something to find
and there it was a little metal box ... which no longer shined

He cracked it open .... and there it was ... what he sought
Not a memory ... Neither was it money
Nothing precious ... To any other
Just a shard of glass

he wiped it anxiously
and it was brought back to life

it shined and glittered in the sun
and was still as sharp as it used to be
It's edges stained with a brown tint
which he knew very well

It took him a long time to come to terms with it again
but now he knew what to do
he threw it on the hard ground as he walked on to his car
and stretchedhand to open his car
as his bruised wrist revealed scars of a memory long gone by

The scribe

I've heard of this man.... if he still is such
he lives on top of the highest mountain
and they say he knows of all which has happened

i've consumed all my life trying to find him
and there he was
on top of a cold dead mountain
with a beard longer than my full height
a face coarser than the mountain where he lodged
and eyes which are closed for business

I approached him and shook him a bit to see if he were awake
he turned his head slowly and looked up to me and asked me to rest beside him

i asked him where his notes were
i was seeking the truth
i wanted to know what was really going on, and what has passed

he asked me to watch for the colors
What colors? i asked
he pointed towards the land
all i saw was greenery
and he extended his hands further and pointed further towards the east
and i saw it all

colors on top of colors
the new covers the old
painting on an old ragged canvas
telling the stories of the past
and laying the foundation for the days to come
no other picture is more beautiful
no other picture is as captivating
no other story is there to be told
the canvas has weakened
as the new cleansed out the old
and the colors became all so darker
and blocked away the sunlight
all we wait for now ..... is for the artist to sign

old man

I once met an old man in an old town
he had eyes that seemed like remains of a once blazing fire
and garments from a time long past
His eyes beckoned me to come forth
And so i did

He asked me to scream
and i let it all out in one blaze of hate
He asked me to cry
and i willowed in my shame and regret
He asked me to dance
and i jumped like a monkey and trotted like a steed

I had no objection ... for i had plenty of time in my pocket

But then he slapped me hard ... when i turned on him
My eyes spoke of injustice ... my hands longed to clasp his neck
I ran towards him ... and pushed him down
He fell to the floor and it seemed like the whole world shook
My Mind was set ... It was my intention to get it back
HE reached for his belt ... as i squeezed his neck
HE pulled out a dark object ... which thought was a weapon
I grabbed it and tossed it away ... and watched him give out his last breath
his eyes dilated ... as i stood up ... and looked around

My eyes caught that object ... and i approached it
it seemed like a little purse tied up at the top
i hesistantly opened it as my fingers shivered
to find a mirror all greased with blood
i wiped it off just to see
The old man staring back at me