Absurd Chaos

Fight and fright and flight  All at once  Life never gives you  A second route  Hold it proudly  Your three-pronged fork 

Shedding my heart like an old skin Shedding my skin like fallen leaves Ends are more beautiful than beginings There are more possibilities with Ends Beginnings are boring Limited with their fleeting excitement of longful Predictability Destruction is free Falling from the high arches of safety Of reality Of sanity

As I sit in my Madrid room pondering; flashes of my favourite part of Cairo fly by in my visual memory, I see the squares that have heard my shouts, the same squares that I have cleaned, holding a pitiful trash bag in one hand and gathering rubbish with the other gloved one. The same squares and streets that I have grown so accustomed to seeing them at Midnight with my father when I was young, that I couldn't walk the same streets twice in the daylight without losing my ways three times, at least. Me and my (ever changing) friends have seen lots of thing on those streets- done lots of things, I've seen a man screaming with a bleeding gash laying on the street once while surrounded by ragged men, he was stabbed. And it's not like I'm special, ask anyone who lives there, they've seen worse than me, probably lived through worse than me, if they truly grew up in those streets. But it's the city's centre, and if you're in your late teens and start of your ...

Blue is not a sad colour.  I was surfing through interior design ideas on Pinterest (my morning routine) and found this beautiful Pin, or whatever you want to call it.  Source: Pinterest The post basically predicts these colours to be the trend this year, and isn't that beautiful? Blue is not a sad colour. Blue is the colour of the sky. Blue is the colour of the night and the morning. So let's stop romanticising sadness and start appreciating the colour Blue. Chechouen, a blue town in Morocco. Source:Pinterest Photo by Charlie Lee Potter of Eggs On The Roof. source: Pinterest

UNICEF Egypt it doesn't get easier than this: watch, comment, like and share and you're helping poor families have water provided to them, your click is worth it, please click below!! Help Poor Families By Just Watching, Your View Count Counts!

ode to my subconscious : I always remember my dreams. My subconscious is a well of pure imagination and I appreciate it being a constant and reliable source of inspiration. The following is a dream I had last night.  Calle Montera, Madrid 1922. Source: Pinterest So, I found myself walking in Calle Montera in Madrid, Spain with my cousins; they were visiting from Egypt and I was determined to show them around and also show them how I live and stop having to pretend or "soften myself and blur my personality around the edges" for them.  Ergo I took them to a fictional café from a distant memory, it was night-time but the lights the small café were emitting were so strong it was almost day-time. We each took a seat in the terrace and me and one of my cousins, let's call her Mia, started collecting the orders; we went to the counter to order and I almost bit back mentioning that this was a very famous bar for cocktails and that it's not your typical café, ...