It’s been a while since the last time I took my time off at the balcony by myself, watching the night sky as my neighbours concluding their discussions. Tonight was strangely clear, no clouds, no smogs, only thin layers of city lights appeared on the horizon. I pointed the dim stars with the red tip of my cigarette as the waning crescent hasn’t yet risen, counting it to nineteen from my vantage point. I tuned sideways then I looked upwards, I saw wildflowers thriving in crevices, in every spot marginal to this house. She is aging, I thought, but what a relief it is to have at least a functioning home. The roof is still intact, the walls stand strong, and the window glasses, they remain firm.
This Ramadhan I witnessed a world increasingly surrounded by cowards, who spread terrors when the lights are out, who send missiles instead of entering the battlefield. It suddenly struck my mind, an image of my house turned into rubble, a thick black smoke from distant came into my view as fata morgana. Oh God, I cried for my brothers and sisters in Tehran, Beirut, and Gaza.
selikurdirham 