Poem

I am a hyphen.

I am allowed to feel sad.

I Join. I separate.  

Writing with images

Interview with INSIDE/WITHIN magazine

I did an interview with INSIDE/WITHIN magazine. You can read it here. 

I wrote a review on Art Newcity about the current exhibition on view at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago. →

Here is the link : all too long history of contemporary art from middle east

From Marina

Notes from a beloved friend.

lover

her mercurial smile, walking down the street, drunk and aroused by the sun.

Political rendition

! no symbolic order !

Lake

At the end of the talk, she wrote: In the end it was all water. Days later, after countless mornings of painful stare at the half open window facing the brick wall in front of me, and reading the words which are both the pain and the relief, I decided to write about the waters. Here the water starts, here the land never starts. Here the unsettling waters, full of bacteria has created small white bubbles. Open your mouth, breath these waters in, suck them in your mouth and let them kill you. The truth is, that they probably would not harm you, a small skin rash, maybe headache. These waters are just pretending to be the horizon to long for. All the surrounding lands, are fairly close, fairly safe, fairly familiar. 

Meeting the lover for the first time

It has been a while since I have written in my blog. But the surprising weather of Chicago today got me in the mood to write; walking bare feet in the streets, jumping over shallow ephemeral urban rivers and small ponds, calculating my moves and steps. I was thinking about my commute, everyday to the south, downtown sometimes west side of the city, often repeating a line over and over again. As I wrote this, the image of John Cage's Chicago map came to my mind, his body in the space, wandering, pointlessly? The window was open when I left the house. The first thing I did as soon as I opened the door, was opening my bag and emptying my journal and book, my journal was all wet, its not ruined but some parts of it are pretty wrinkled.  My plants behind the window are the lucky ones though, they have got enough water for couple of days. The floor near the window is wet, a little pond of water, as much as a domestic floor can afford. It is an interesting, almost cinematic feeling; the storm, the need of sheltering or having a shelter, wanting to have control over your space and body.

Mother after two years

mother

you are here next to me, I can't let you go.

Once a lover

her short red hair.

Mnemonic plate #5

عبث

Mnemonic plate #4

i don't have an image of happiness.

Mnemonic plate #3

moving from the popular front to the united front. solution.

For Barbara

I miss you, B.