once upon time in the cafe to work ….

“it is harder everyday to find a stable or even just a consistent image of yourself” that voice said..
with all the denial in the desert sand lift in me i gored it .. again!!

“engineering the memory you think, you are not Hessain Barghouthi and your memory is not exciting as the Blue light.. stop playing childish games and take your medicine” annoyingly that voice kept repeating similar statement some times in the voice of Gorden Brown and other times it was as if the Queen herself came to lecture me, Sabah Fakhri and Fouad Najeem were here too…

a small Speakers Corner was playing in my head while i was smiling to the cute waitress in the pink out fit, i was served a breakfast of some Bacon and two eggs shaped as a smiley face..bfft, the dark coffee surface showed a face of a person who had not had a good night sleep in days, no wonder i hear voices..

ما يشالي في يوم الحرب غير من كان معلم …راكب علي شلوي مهدوم من خيل الصحرا

متي بدأت أتكلم الجزائرية أو لعلها المغاربية؟؟ دار هذا في خلدي فطمسته لكي لا يدرك تلك الأصوات ما ببالي
ذات يوم قال لي جدي كلهم ماتوا علي خيولهم نحن من تبقينا ، نحن أحفاد الخونة …. مرت عبارته البدوية خارجة عن السياق و بذلك فهي في السياق تماما

نظرت لمؤخرة النادلة سريعا لطمس عباراته قبل أن يسمعها جوردن براون أو جلالتها.. فحضورهم و جلوسهم علي حافة صحن البيض شئ و أن يستخفا بجدي الثمانيني فذاك الجنون لا جدال، كان عليك عزيزي المستمع أن تري كيف خلع معالي رئيس الوزراء معطفه ليهيئ لجلالتها مجلسا لتتفادي الزيت

“the seventh floor window is nearly fixed, since the last storm you were saying you would like to jump..”

the voice prsuading me to commit a suicide, i wonder if there is a law to incriminate it or him or even her, i must say these voices are some how Politically Correct; no gender discrimination here. the thing is i do not mind sounds but if i heard Simon Shaheen playing Kantara that would be a bless not madness. I’ve must have been very bad in my previous life time

أراني في حلمي فزعا، أركض إلي الشرفة في الطابق السابع كمن تآمرت عليه رجليه، أصل إلي الحافة تمتد يدي إلي الفراغ كأنها تستحلب ضرع بقرة لا مرئية، أنظر تحتي فأجدني أحدق في منظر أقرب إلي مشهد مستقطع من فيلم كاتوني ياباني درامي، شارع رمادي فارغ و مطر شديد. يداي اللتان لم أعد أسيطر عليهم ترجعان لتلطماني بشدة و تمسكاني من ناحية الكتف و ترمياني و كأني ألعب جودو مع بطل اليابان و قد تعلم من الكونق فو الصيني ما يكفي ليجعله مخفي….. كالعادة في هذه الأحلام أستيقظ و أنا أسقط مع قطرات المطر إلي الشارع

“you remember that dream, No doubt ..” that voice said

i replied as any decent and self respecting nut case, whom have a repetition to keep,would reply; my answer came as a simple nice “Fuck Off!!!!..” statement, it was loud enough to emphasise that i might be a danger to the surrounding beings which might include inferior creatures so called humans in which the Pinkly dressed waitress is present, whom as i mentioned is cute with quite interesting behind… she was surprised, but i was surprised even more, for half an hour i was a normal customer to her.. that is a good start, i am imoressed, if i hold my ground with some luck i can make it to the lunch hour with out being sectioned.

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