Balcony song

This song leaves me working at peace, whilst gently patting at  my heart.

 

From where I sit

From where I sit, you’re much closer than the scarf wrapped around my neck, much closer than all the lanes I must pass towards you.. in a fleeting fragrance of longing I can almost touch your shadows.

Coco Maya, London, Summer 2012.

socks

He told her she was thoroughly beautiful.

She felt blessed, he’s the kind of man that vocalises his love and sincerest feelings.

‘I just love socks’ he told the salesperson.

 

Hello Summer!

To sleepless nights swept by dreams, love and energy. To hopes and time to think and thank, and work harder.

Violin

A WoMan

‘Let me know if you need absolutely anything.. please..’ he said, in a burst facial expressions she couldn’t reason, a spasm of emotion of some sort.

She had a lot of needs she thought.. she’s always had them.. she wasn’t sure if she could pronounce how much there is she wanted.

Once upon a time she did express them

‘I don’t mean to sound offending.. but are you man enough to be making such a promise? There are different women out there.. some of which haven’t had an option to grow up with a man that gave her a sense of her fragility, her femininity.. she took control of things was consciously unaware of the existence of those major differences between sexes.. she didn’t really know how to fit the standard of a female.. is a female supposed to say this? she wonders.. are females supposed to take control this?..  she was optionless.. so giving her an option right now would seem alien and unnecessary.. so are you man enough to be a father, a brother and a lover she asked?.. and like all men.. he replied with assurance.. unprecedented words of understanding and assurance.  So whilst she was lost between being a woman and the man in her world, he started teaching her how to feel like a woman, for a day, or two, until he broke down into not being able to sustain the act of knowing how to be a man.’

Is that too much to say she wonders.

unfair

and at 3 am it all felt wrong and unfair.. to me.. only to me, and between the rush of seconds, dreams dissipated into time, hopes fled.. I could only feel those memories.. in dire need to crumble and disappear into voids..

timely clashes painted black and white;

it all felt suffocatingly unfair.. and it is.

Mommy

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.

Dance of scarves

the dance of her red scarf atop a pale mirage of distant melodies within his raging bodily storm confuted his shattered image of life, as the dances of scarves always do in blonde, foreign, cold lands..

skies, radio opera, sleepless words

We might have met whilst hovering around the skies of Ankara.. it might’ve been Maldives.. but one thing I was sure of was a body state I couldn’t sustain, absolute comfort I couldn’t fathom.  It felt at home.  It felt beautiful.  It felt simple and right and hit the heart and took it to the most zealous and brightest of places, to my balcony that I loved so much, to a steaming cup of arabian coffee, to sugar canes and sufi dances in central cairo, to villages and happy children.. to everywhere I wanted to be.  Through the exchange of shy sentences, we went everywhere.

It was beautiful.