The Loyalty of a Pigeon

"Excuse me for a few moments". I opened the car door and left my family behind; I knew they were unhappy about the inconvenient delay that I was about to cause. The cat was so young, small, skinny and looking for the least to feed on. I ignored it on the way out of the house. Those few moments in the car, awaiting my family to leave the house injected me with guilt and the feeling that I could help a resident of this planet with their pain. It became a habit every now and then to feed that particular cat; I would pick some of my lunch meal leftovers or steal some of my sister's cat food. She has a Persian cat who is so fat and lazy, it reminds me of "Garfield" and in a just world "Wolverine" the cat can share some of its wealth with the poor street cat. The little skinny cat always follows me now, out of everyone else on the street, it recognizes me and sprints to me. On a weird level, I feel happy that it appreciates me and acknowledges what I do.

Acceptable Racism

A Krispy Kreme original Donut, with a small black Americano is what i ordered. Not long after I sat down with my two dear friends. My phone rang. At first I thought my sister was laughing, but then again I never heard her voice in extreme shock. After a few moments of trying to explain, I understood she was in the middle of a shocking car accident with my mother, her best friend and her best friend's mother. I rushed, drove, with the attempt to stabilize my body and mind to avoided another car accident.

A thought in the Dark

Out of no where, changing the flow of the previous conversation, he said: "Faisal when will you write a book, a philosophical novel? I enjoy your writings. It's great to inspire people, to change how they see things, books make a difference". Hasan Eid is a poet, interesting How I came to know him, his book fell in my hands as a friend told me to read it. I thought to myself a Saudi male writing poems in English must be interesting. I read it that day, with every observation i had, i did my habit of twisting the top corner of the page. This is why my books look so used and old, although they were just bought. If I may also add, the drops of my coffee on the covers  make the books look more dramatic. It's fair to accuse me of disrespecting my books. Personally I think it gives them a touch of me, plus I respect my books by giving them my time to read, and spreading the words in them. Back to Hasan, I knew he was a young man from his various views in his writings. I emailed him my thoughts. I must say, I was rather harsh, yet polite. I meant no more than the best of my intentions. I don't regret it, he appreciated my criticism, which I honestly didn't expect, thus we became friends.

Thank you

 

In this post I just wanted to share an email that I have received from a friend (Dr. Afrah Sait) after she read the previous piece "The wise man". It touched me to read her response, thus I thought I would love to share it with my friends, I quoted her email below with no alteration as a thank you.

The wise man

It is situated no further than a few hundred meters from the city center. I walk up the road, which is always a burden, but the thought of reaching that peaceful land always made it much easier. The music plays in my ears as I walk towards it, a journey that takes no more than 10 minutes. It's always a good time to visit Leazes Park just before sunset. Most people are at restaurants having dinner, or on their way to the bar to start their weekend, or most probably getting ready for a night out to dance at a club. Summer time in the UK is a funny season, extremely long days, and very short evenings.

Enemies of Love

Her words differed in style from that happy optimistic tone she always held. That style that one only acknowledges on the face and in the words of a human being who's in love, as you see their smile drawn on their faces shining like the moon in the middle of all darkness. It's the face that we all look at and get inspired by its optimism. That look that gives us hope in tomorrow. That look that I always long to have on my face. That look that no human being can live without wishing for. That look I have always suspected that we inherited from the first two humans who lived this world when they first laid eyes on each other.

Propaganda

2:28 AM was the time when the image of the calm waters knocked on the doors of my thoughts. As I was about to disappear into my sleep, I wished I can touch that 5,000,000 km away river with the sight of my eyes, or feel the rain drops on my face as I walked through the narrow roads of that city. Not because I missed the physical places, but what I missed was the freedom of the flawless dreams I once had.