I think I must be crazy, or have a short circuit in my brain; it feels like I can’t think in a right way, a way that guarantees any other destination in this life.
Taking decisions – any decisions – is a serious crisis in my life, so it feels like I’m paddling. I’ve tried, at least I think I’ve tried to edit my position, to lie down on my comfortable side, but where can one find a side in dimensionlessness? Failure echoes in the present and makes me tap deeper into my fragility. A psychological epidemic destroys my imaginary pictures of my self.
What can one do more than go on trying to live, though, since living is an involuntary daily activity that routinely robs us of our will to choose.
So I wake up every day carrying this box of contradictions about and trying as much as I possibly can to organize the mess. But I fail. A daily failure that reminds me of the greater failure of our existence. So I sleep on it, only to ironically try again when I wake up as if I didn’t yesterday.
I know I don’t have anything new to say, but repeating what can be repeated is the only way to emphasize nothing.
Investigating the relationship between humans and their (physical) environment is the focus of my work. Who we are is determined by our social environment and (family) history. How we build our self-esteem determines how we look to the outside world and how we respond to the other.
لا تُحدَّد النهايات ببطء. ولا تُقاس بحجم العمر
البحر بعيد ولا مجال للسباحة في كوب غاز
هذه المواد تخرّ أمامي فأستعملُها
When suddenly, at midnight, you hear
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
say goodbye to her, the Alexandria that is leaving.