Enchanted, enchanting & Whatnot

Another Cyber Wall for RafiqueN

[marcjacobs]

[rafique-n]

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#MyAmman

[rafique-n]

The Turkish man stopped singing. By the sea, in my sheets and on my mind. His voice faded into the distance and I faded into revisiting blurry nights of romancing Phoenicians. Thank you Turkish man for the company, it's time I do some post modern routines now, who needs a protagonist anyway. #liveloveletgo #thecurseofgrowingup #fuckingrayofsunshine #happygolucky #lifeasweknowit

[rafique-n]

Pride is not my thing as I hate to identify, label or flaunt... But this year it feels different. This song is for all the brave and all the cowards, for those clicking heels, those grooming beards and all the spectrum beyond and in between; love lives, as long as we are all here. 

[ratsimons]

[ratsimons]

Givenchy

[rafique-n]

Go ahead and kiss as many frogs as you please, you're only ending up with sticky lips and the poor frogs with blue balls. #fuckingrayofsunshine #liveloveletgo #thecurseofgrowingup #happygolucky #hatersgonnahate #rant

[rafique-n]

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The Turkish man is still singing, and as his words mix with the trance the sound of my footsteps had created, I stopped. I have walked so far my feet and the repeat button can't hold me any longer... I stopped, I sat on the sidewalk and started writing this till I was able to walk again. I walked, sprinted, and ran till it hit me close to home, I sat on another sidewalk and I wept, smoked a cigarette and realized that this city is mine, and soon enough you will be no one, just the way you were. There and then, I was tired of walking in circles and took a cab home.  #fuckingrayofsunshine #thecurseofgrowingup #liveloveletgo #lifeasweknowit #hatersgonnahate #amuse #thoughtsofyou #happygolucky

[rafique-n]

I hate Amman, no more romanticizing.

"If you do not like it here, why aren’t you long gone?" I will tell you why I am here… I might possibly be here for my parents, or for the sake of finishing what I have already started. That's why I put up with working 20 hours a day in two jobs and still be debt by the 15th of the month. It also might be that view where I keep telling myself I am in love, the exact same view we down long weeks with overpriced spirits and pirated music of local, struggling-bands while overlooking the "other" side of the city.

Maybe because I don’t want to miss out on smiling and nodding at all the white kids passing by the streets I am accused of gentrifying.

It has been a while since I ranted, let alone voice my disgust and outrage towards this city, or is it its people? Even though I am brushed with reasons to leave almost every day, I always find myself in a loop that leads me to the reasons why I am still here.

I love you for making me who I am, how I've mastered having full-on conversations without using ق  or ض to avoid un-comfort. I admire the double-standards I have acquired, juggling explanations and justifications on capitalism, heteronormativity, and new-age religions.  

I am not sure, is it Amman or its people that I really hate? I am not any better, I am one of them, no? self-loathing is the trend, and I love being trendy! Amman has made me who I am, the good, the bad and the ugly, and for that I am thankful.

In a couple of days I will be celebrating my 27th anniversary of this self-destructive relationship that I love to hate, and hate to love. My mother's smile helps me get over the smelly cab ride with racism infused morning shows, and from there I look for little details to keep me going.

I hate Amman, but I am not going anywhere, for the small amount of love I still have deserves to be fought for, being the hopeless romantic I am.

Till then, I will keep counting my blessings.

[rafique-n]

Confession 6 | #writerscell

What is #loneliness?

L is for living.

Leaving your office at 4 am with an occupied mind, empty heart, and a gigantic ego. As you breathe to the tempo of your footsteps, you smile to yourself, now that’s awkward! Plug in your earphones and focus on getting home to your reward - one dollar worth of streamed internet juice.

Don’t blame it on me or yourself. Blame it on the time when intimacy is calculated by GPS coordinates that you swipe right and left.

O is for obscene

Flashing seconds for the thrill of instantaneous satisfaction, then scarily taking it back. Recycled snapshots are there to stay, taken to go in timed void, an invisible testimony. From my story, into a gallery; Neglected and rarely visited, but it’s right there to stay.

This constant urge to find or be found by something, not someone. Sensorially flipping through squares, deposits in a sperm bank.

Why so precise, precious? Nothing really is set in stone, we are what we indecisively let go of, not keep. Being brushed by the rushing question whether to stay, leave or just exist in that time and place is the fuel of this fear.

What are we afraid of, really? We are afraid of ourselves, that’s it, munchkin! We’re the products of living obscene loneliness, together.

L is for loneliness.

Even angry morning shows are sad today, Lol away.

#fuckingrayofsunshine #thecurseofgrowingup #lifeasweknowit #confessions #lol

[rafique-n]

We are what we indecisively let go of, not keep. We are the products of living obscene loneliness, together. Artwork by Karima Ben Otman  #thecurseofgrowingup #liveloveletgo #artisbeautiful #happygolucky

[rafique-n]

Sleep with one eye open. #fuckingrayofsunshine #thecurseofgrowingup

[rafique-n]

Confession 9 | #WritersCell 3 AM is for all of those who can't pull the macho act I pull when pulled over by the police. It is for all those who avoid using the letters ق and ض in conversations with smelly cab drivers in order to avoid the uncomfort.  3 AM is for the homeless man I just saw sleeping outside a mosque downtown, it is for the woman looking outside her window waiting for her drunk husband to come home.  3 AM is for the family going to sleep tonight without their little girl whom they lost to cancer this afternoon.  3 AM is for the unfortunate

[rafique-n]

Confession 8 | #WritersCell Longing is for losers who leave loose ends.

[rafique-n]

Confession 7 | #WritersCell What is #forgiveness? Letting that last butterfly out of your stomach. Photo by : @renhangrenhang

[rafique-n]

Confession 6 | #writerscell What is #loneliness? L is for living. Leaving your office at 4 am with an occupied mind, empty heart, and a gigantic ego. As you breathe to the tempo of your footsteps, you smile to yourself, now that's awkward! Plug in your earphones and focus on getting home to your reward - one dollar worth of streamed internet juice. Don't blame it on me or yourself. Blame it on the time when intimacy is calculated by GPS coordinates that you swipe right and left. O is for obscene Flashing seconds for the thrill of instantaneous satisfaction, then scarily taking it back. Recycled snapshots are there to stay, taken to go in timed void, an invisible testimony. From my story, into a gallery; Neglected and rarely visited, but it's right there to stay. This constant urge to find or be found by something, not someone. Sensorially flipping through squares, deposits in a sperm bank. Why so precise, precious? Nothing really is set in stone, we are what we indecisively let go of, not keep. Being brushed by the rushing question whether to stay, leave or just exist in that time and place is the fuel of this fear. What are we afraid of, really? We are afraid of ourselves, that's it, munchkin! We're the products of living obscene loneliness, together. L is for loneliness. Even angry morning shows are sad today, Lol away. #fuckingrayofsunshine #thecurseofgrowingup #lifeasweknowit #confessions #lol

[rafique-n]

Confession 4 | #WritersCell What is #expression ? It is knowing when to stay silent.

[rafique-n]

Confession 3 | #WritersCell  What is #love?  Opportunities are countless under the cold sun Love is October 2015 and last night Touching black mirrors to transcend Love is Skype calls about Charlie Hebdo and Amman Emoji’d virtual reality, disconnected to connect It was a long winter of snowflakes. Disabled and dismantled count down Command me to be well. I told the butterflies Love is the scent of perfume and cigarettes we shared  As a tower whose top is in the heavens, stood still So well. Love is Sam Smith's voice Between the lines of every construction Antonyms put together in a colloquial syntax Riddling the traits of my protagonist There you are, there you were My muse, my supply of daydreams Whisky doesn’t taste the same How many decisions does it take to make the right one. Love is my heavy breath and your coloured eyes How could I possibly end this un-revised, raw piece of my mind that I don’t intend to proofread, ever Artwork: Anonymous