The systems failed us!

Although i never considered myself a revolutionist nor activist per se, I think that i was deeply affected by the revolution or the uprising of 2011, or whatever we can call it now.

Back in the time, I never felt belonging to any activist, civilian nor political groups, so I was somehow participating adhocly neither in an organized nor even a planned way. I simply participated following my inner voice, marching and chanting alone, or with my sister and close friends, haphazardly.

I witnessed all the events as silent participant and sometimes as an observer. I witnessed the crash of the system on the 28th of Jan, the vacuum of power, the resistance, the counter-revolution, the referendum election, the first real election, the daily clashes with an old rotten system, the Muslim Brotherhood rising in the power, then crashing, and the return of the most mediocre, violent and corrupted military rule ever over the country. Continue reading

The different Narrative of the Self [2]

On the wild beach of Abou Galoum, staring at the sea and the mountain shadows of the other shore of Saudi Arabia, only one month after I took off the veil that I wear for thirteen years. I sit alone and lonely reading.

There, I came across this quote from the book of Jiddu Krishnamurti, Freedom from the Known “[…] We are always comparing what we are with what we should be. The should be is a projection of what we think we ought to be, Contradiction exists when there is comparison not only with something or someone, but with what you were yesterday, and hence there is a conflict about what has been and what is. There is what is only when there is no comparison at all, and you live with what is, is to be peaceful.”

At that moment, these words illuminated something deep in me, almost liberated me, not only from the external world judgment, that I subconsciously feared or challenged, but also and mostly from my own perspective of myself. Continue reading


Voilà un texte que j’ai écrit en Juin 2009, que je publie ici tel qu’il était écrit. Si je réécris ce texte aujourd’hui, le vocabulaire fervent et naïve changera, mais surement pas l’esprit!

Avec les premières notes de musique, commence l’histoire que je rêvais tant d’écrire, c’est avec la voix effrénée sans frontière qui s’élève, que mon histoire se déchaîne

« كل واحد منا فقلبه حكايات  répète la chanson ; et c’est là que  mon cœur débordé d’histoires  commence à raconter, à se révéler. L’histoire est simple, de la même simplicité de la vie de la mort. La même simplicité du début et de la fin. Soudaine et douce. Continue reading