الضيف المتوقع المنسي، الضيف الثقيل، ما أن يزورنا حتى يصعب عليه نسياننا ويستحيل أن ننساه. سألني ذات مرة شخص، إن كنت قد فقدت عزيزاً لهذا الضيف. لم أدري ما الإجابة المناسبة، ولكن “لا” كانت هي الأقرب والأشجع. حقيقة الأمر، التجربة الإنسانية لكل شخص في التعامل مع الموت مختلفة تماما، ألا أحد يعلم ما تمر به و إن مر به. نميل نحن البشر لتوحيد التجارب، أنا تصرفت في حال الفقد هكذا، فيجب أن يتصرف الجميع بنفس الطريقة. إنه الغباء الاجتماعي اللامتناهي الذي يطالبك بأن تشعر بالتوحد في إطار واحد مع المجموعة.

يؤسفني أن الموت قد صار ضيفاً ملازماً لي، وللعالم إن…


تظل القصيدة الدمشقية من أجمل ما قيل عن وطن، وأنا أجلس اليوم في المقهى الأوروبي يحضرني أن هؤلاء لا يعرفون حقا معنى أن يكون الوطن سبب في وجع أبدي، هناك أشياء في الحياة لا نبدي لها بالا عندما تتواجد بكثرة حولنا و هنا نوع من التميز يلوح كثيرا، لا يعيرون انتباها لتفاصيل القهر و القمع التي يتمتع الوطن بفرضها عليك. كم منهم سيجرؤ على قول أن وطنه جرح غائر، ولهفة مسروقة. كم منهم سيصفه بحبيب قاس القلب، جلف الطباع. نقبع اليوم في العالم الأول و لكن يظل عالمنا الثالث بداخلنا، ينظر لنا أهل العالم الأول بفوقية و رحمة، نحن من…


Sometimes I feel like a kid

Scurrying around

Making silly comments

escaping somber adulthood

Sometimes I love being a kid

who makes people laugh

The certain charm

of wrinkled eyes of a laughing adult

Sometimes I wish I were a kid

a resilient one

who cries, sleeps, and wakes up laughing

The old memories

The questions

Endless questions

The patience they had to answer

All the whys, in a loop

The kid they made feel special

And the adult who is beaten to a pulp

I want to be a kid


Home is where we fight over silly things

It is where we got our hearts broken

But found solace in each other’s arms

It is the first realization that life is shitty

No sunshine and rainbows

Home is inside jokes

aimless Fridays, tea, and weird songs

nicknames and smirks

Home is feeling furious

Saying your feelings

Getting mocked

And explode with madness

Home has no walls

But beating hearts

Home is my sisters


It all started when she was a kid. She doesn’t remember how she loved the stars and the dark spaces they orbit, but she felt similarities between the stars orbiting her brain with excitement and the darkness they illuminate. She was sure that one day she will become an astronaut. Smitten and fascinated by the dream she lived a full life. She grew up and it is not an easy thing to grow. The mechanics of growing up consume and feed on our small dreams and stars inside our brains.

She is thirty but feels like a hundred. Her twenties…


Sometimes all you can do is stand there, alone. You have been inside the house, tried to rearrange it to fit you. Sometimes your legs were too long for the bed, you weighed too much for the sofa, or you were too loud for the neighbors. You chose to leave, or you get kicked out, doesn’t really matter. You are now alone but for yourself. You would rather lose that too. You know this is going to be the hardest test ever. Being without love, confronting yourself. You hid so many times in the crevices of your partner. …


Act I:

While at college I had a designing project, a perfume advertisement. I choose a model’s face wearing an amazing bold red lipstick next to a bottle of perfume. My poster was declined because of the woman’s face (her body wasn’t attached). A dear friend told me that she is against the way women are portrayed in the media (Totally agree). The University, of course, didn’t have this noble idea, all they understood is that women should be covered and hidden.

Act II:

Women in general and actresses especially are taunted by their image. They have to look a certain way and talk…


The drawn bridge between two ends: love and life, Art is the common delimiter joining the hearts and souls and setting the tempo for understanding and freedom

A Girl’s story:

image courtesy of Somaya Abdullah

A 6 years old girl, papers and crayons. Holding pencils, the right angle, painting, and coloring until her heart is content. The first encounter between drawing and Shatha was during her early childhood. A kid mesmerized by the range of colors and the plain paper in her sight. “My parents realized my talent by mere chance, the first thing they noticed was my correct way of holding the crayons, then…


“All art is autobiographical. The pearl is the oyster’s autobiography.” Federico Fellini, Italian Director

Art and life, two sides of the same coin. For the longest time, it has been viewed as an expression of life. Writers write what they experience, painters are closely impacted by their surroundings, and moviemakers engage audiences with relatable characters. Art has been a tool to interpret emotions, impulses, purity and sinfulness: it is used to depict life. However, it is not a one-way endeavor; art has also been a change catalyst. Along with portraying life with all its turbulence, it changes the way we…


Between countries, languages and ethnicities lie identities. Can we consider a person more authentic and true if they show an inclination towards one piece of their identity and shed the rest? Identities form, piece by piece, over time. They are never rigid: they are vital and adjustable. Your identity is a collection of different flavors that make you relatable in some aspects to one group and to another in other aspects. It is the calibration and adjustment of time that makes you a uniquely defined individual, yet a relatable human being.

This year, five Yemeni artists contributed their work to…

Manal Ghanem

Blue is the best color.. Blue is the best state.. I’m beautifully blue.. The best kinda blue..

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