Sunday, 17 July 2011
Tomorrow I'm going to the sea. I will eat nothing, not even apples nor icecream. I'll sleep with 16 blankets all over me and wake up sweating, as if inadvertently sweating, and go immediately. When I'll arrive, I'll take off all my clothes and wear my very new une pièce, I haven't worn one since 15 years. Pubertal and possessive, I'll be proudly transmuted. I'll skip the sand, it is the waves that I'll tinct first . I'll grow shorter. My tiny legs will dally all the surface. I will swallow everyone on vacation. I will gob the daughters. I will gob the sons.
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
If I were a man, I would surely have a beard. I would often pretend to mistaken it for my mouth. I would imbed grains in it in the wrong seasons and water it in the shower. I would paint it with labneh. I would sing while I shave it ( which is rare) and always keep the door closed. One time, I’ll shave it on the streets watching the cars passing by, listening to their curses and cursing with them. Another time, I’ll shave it on the balcony with my eyes closed. One night, I’ll hide a little camera in it and kiss 15 women and in the morning try to recognize each one of them from her barely visible tainted moving black neck. I would jump while the little boys and girls grab me with it. I would shampoo it with Johnson للأطفال and I would sometimes eat it, my beard. I’ll smack every foreign woman who tells me I look like Nasrallah. And one day, I’ll choose to trade it to fly.