Posts Tagged ‘minaret’


He left and it rained but not because he left. It just rained. I thought I was upset because he had left, but I was not…not because of that. He said he was my friend and I agreed with that….at least for a few moments a day…or something like that. I then got a severe headache…no not because he had left but because how I felt after he had left. And it rained. Something felt fake when I waved at him from the balcony… something was still fake. Was it something in me or in him, I did not know that yet.

I hated his beard for the first time. He, too, admitted that men with little manhood tended to grow big beard in this land where minarets were more potent than most of them. Was it his beard? No, not completely that. He smelled like a hell and he did not seem to know that. No, no…don’t get me wrong before I even began. I did not even touch him, he was my friend. Just because he wanted to…but he was too primitive…too manishly man…too shallow…too proud to have a little extension between his legs…no he thought he was but he was never my friend…and I never cared. Wasn’t I dreaming like everyone else? And it rained…I love the way soil smelled…a big white bird opened her wings and flew towards me…she seemed to have known how I felt.

red and blue pill

What pill would kill the pain a fake friend left in my head? I opened the cabinet and took the blue pill. I poured water into a thin tall glass, put the blue pill in the middle of my tongue and pushed it down with water. The pain seemed to have disappeared as I walked towards the mirror. My face seemed different to me. There was disgust and regret even when I stared like a newly made statute or dead. I felt more sublime when I was a statute, insignificant and sad when I pretended to be dead. Then I got scared , no I did not want to be dead…but I did not want to be fake either…I began hating the mirror after my friend…no he was not mine…he was just a friend …

He told me how he stabbed a man…he was proud of that because that was very brave…that was the only reason why he had become  a friend in my conscious sphere…I knew how sorry he and all the other men felt sorry for me for not being a man…I felt sorry for him for not having anything else apart from the little or big extension between his legs.

“Have you ever thought that you are smarter than me?” asked he. He knew the truth, I knew the truth. I still had to pretend that I did not know the truth…because I was not a man…and I could not stab a man…but I think I am going to have to, I said to myself…I am going to have to pretend to be mad…because I know that is going to be less painful and more real…I am going to be a mad woman, shooting the minarets…cutting the throats and cocks of men who made me fake…who forced me to pretend, I promised myself. No, Buddha would not do that…because he was a man…he, too, would not understand…nor would Mohammed…he would laugh at that…

“Sit down! Stay down woman!” he would exclaim, stroking his big beard.

It rained…it rained regret all day… and I took one more blue pill…it rained revenge all night… and I took another blue pill…

 

 

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I felt hungry, the refrigerator was empty. I put my blue jeans on and left home. I passed by  a beauty saloon where lost souls sought something they did not know, not known and yet painful to know. Some thought that they had found.It vanish after a small smile.They were hungry.They were sleepy…

40 years old lady shouted at me, 18 yo wanted to learn it from me secretly. A married woman saw her husband looking at me and pulled my hair for not sharing my beauty.Well I did, as soon as I appeared on the street, I was such a free commodity in a common stupidity.My name was woman, her name was woman.She was unhappy and she was the most hungry.My heart told me to forgive, so I did…

Secret of an architect...

Secret of an architect…

An old man passed by me. His wrinkles, his hunchback, his slow steps told me that life was not supposed to be a duty. He did not read Schopenhauer surely, well that was lucky. Then how did he get this philosophy? He asked me to tell him the secret before he ended his journey. He was hungry…

I had not yet arrived at the shop,I jumped up by a call! An unknown imam began to infuse all his suppressed passion into his loud call and screamed “Allah-u Ekber!” Yes, God was big and then what? The imam was asking people to pray right at that moment. Who was he? Why was he dictating everyone so loudly? He did not know the secret and surprisingly he was not hungry.

Soon men began to gather around the mosque. Women? How dare they? Well, I could only if I believed in what Imams tried to say.I was already undressed in fifteen fast steps. I felt naked, God would not allow that! God whispered me to forgive them , so I did and walked away. They began asking the water to clean themselves.Once again hunger and thirst filled up the mosque, not what imam had told…

I looked back as I heard some whispers and noise!I looked up, at the minaret, it shouted out the secret.All the women on the street were naked, so they appeared on the minaret…So who had drawn that on a white minaret, if not the architect?

Finally I was at the shop to get some vegetable, cheese and some bread. Oh, water! How could I forget that? I did not remember my hunger after discovering the secret of the architect…