The Sweet Voices of 2:58 AM...Aaand Me!

I was chased by rainbows for a week.



Somehow, I have heard the word Rainbow in too many random separate contexts over the past few days. I couldn't even help not notice it. I would have loved to see actual ones along that, though, but it had barely rained. All in all, it's been amusing to have an unintentional word-of-the-week!

Tickles Of Rambling

I could use a conversation with a stranger.

I think Cairo's streets are heavenly (in their very own Egyptian-heaven way) when no traffic is there to block the sight of the gorgeous asphalt, or prevent the mights of 4th gear.

I also think the new 'wave' of installing perfectly functioning street lights is awesome. I like street lights. I like it when there's too many of them, especially when they all suddenly decide to work in an overnight. That was the case with the main street in my neighborhood. There is one thing I do like about the district where I live. It is structured as one main-street, quite a long one, with streets swerving off of it from both sides. So, on the way home, I enjoy a clear horizon. As I get closer along that street the tip of the Great Pyramid starts to poke into the surface, where the clouds sometimes look like they're about to crash upon the front end of my car as I drive further.



It is best when the sun happens to be setting. Aaah, right in my face.

I have never crossed the border before, and I sure as hell am obsessed with doing that as soon as possible, and that is one other story I can't get out of my head. But anyhow, even though I have never been to any other country than ol' Egypt, so this thought would make sense since I don't have concrete experience, I still can never imagine living abroad for good. That in itself is very contradicting to my big travel-the-world plan. Again, maybe that is because I've never been anywhere else like I just said, but I have a feeling there's more than this to it. The reason why this kind of thoughts keeps re-appearing at the top of my head is that I received an application, a couple of days ago, for a one year exchange opportunity. The thing is, I look for these kinds of programs constantly, and this one had the simplest procedures, which is why it got me thinking I can travel before I know it. And so, whoa! There you fucking finally have it! it doesn't get any better with regards to the first hit in the great journey-to-be! a fully paid time to spend away from everything and everyone and everywhere I've ever known.
And it already feels like too damn much. Not that this would get me to reconsider, it's rather that I've never felt the concept more strongly than I did when I got this call for the scholarship. I'm not really going anywhere with this, I just needed to document that. Maybe I wanted to talk about that, too, with that stranger I'm already longing for.

The universe is winking at me. And I'm learning to wink back. I would like to believe we have a better understanding. And that is just as awesome as having that many street lights above your head. Maybe those clueless light poles even have something to do with the deal.

That was one piece of work year, to say the least. And as it comes to a wind-up I take my mental cup of tea to the room that sets itself around the same time of the year. Where the hot aroma of fresh mint fills the space where there used to be everything but silence. But this year, there is no screen and chair, rather boxes being prepared, to be sealed, to be moved out of Time, where I'm building all the highways.

Oh, mentioning those.

So, well, you count them up for me, universe!
Box by box.

Bless The Water Drop

They rushed down the street together, digging everything in the early way they did, which later became sadder and perceptive and blank. But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, The ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"

I had given up the thought of ever finding this book here in Egypt, until I casually walk into a second hand book store because I have some 20 minutes to spare, and right before I grab the door knob and confuse pulling with pushing as always, my eyes fall upon a light green cardboard slip glued on to a book and titled "Jack Kerouac On The Road".
Anyhow, I gladly deleted the un-entertaining e-copy that I downloaded as means of settling but never got past the second chapter even at my eagerness to read this book, and I started reading into the physical version. Due to the on-and-off then once-and-for-all routine that I had gotten used to with reading, I still am getting towards the first third of the book. That didn't get me to notice what makes Kerouac great, though. My very own kind of great.
And I knew it, because, why yes I choose to believe in the "Our books find us not the other way round" case. It adds a lot more to the ride. A very personal value. And might as well, some answers, or magic signs, or whatever. I would like to end this paragraph because that's when I start losing words describing how words mean to me.

And this has got to be pretty much the most intense song I have ever come across.

I started doing something that I didn't notice when it became habitual, but I'm glad it did anyway. I crack the shutters wide open the minute I wake up, before doing anything at all, and I stand for a few minutes under the sun. I love how it feels when the warmth starts transferring from the fabric of my clothes into the skin on my shoulders. I also like the crisp I get when I change these clothes and then the cold fabric meets that warmth. This morning I saw the sun breaking in from between two little round siding clouds right as it was about to stop raining. This is the second time since winter officially started that I wake up to find it raining outside. The winter stories in my head always have this paradoxical course, but I won't try to fix that, as long as the sun manages to squeeze in from behind the clouds at some point.

So, I'll take it, as long as it makes the streets smell like they do in the early morning hours when it'd been raining at dawn, when it falls upon the dust lurking all over the under-construction road that is initially intended to connect me with that lost other side. The one where winter runs all year long and it's never boring, where it regularly storms but the sound of thunder never scares you.

I'll take it because it stuns me with genuine power to smile at nothing.