" Can I call you on Saturday ?", he asked. That sounded like a good idea that no matter what, I had no tangible reason to turn it down — it's the weekend! This was the first time I actually got an open invitation to a Moroccan home to taste Moroccan cuisine, home-prepared with lots of love. (who doesn't love some " home cho "? ) . I thought to myself that it was a good opportunity for me to immerse myself in the culture, at the very least reveling in it. It's 11 o'clock in the morning, I'm still in bed half-awake when the call from an unknown number came through. I figured it might be Marwan since I hardly receive phone calls from my number. This was not far from truth as the person at the other end of the phone bellowed " weeeesh ". " Oh yeah what's up ? How's it going ? You already had breakfast ? " Breakfast you said? I don't recall the very last time I made time to eat a hearty breakfast; It's just...
I’m in chains, you’re in chains too... Mr. Jailer, Stop Calling Me A Prisoner...
It’s about time I bid adieu to the days where I was gaoled wondering whether I’d for once in this damned cage be greeted with a wall of text saying you cared as much I do. I was always waiting, and waiting for the turning gyre, waiting for that moment where a sporadic conversation might flow. You all know, all the moments you initiated good, telling connection, made me more than happy — but that did not happen— oh how I hate spoilers!
Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried too hard at getting your attention; Hopes were high, might as well be better to say that false hopes which were raised threw me down a downward spiral, and I should have seen through it. Oh but these cages, these cages, mr jailer, clouded my better judgement!Start learning any African language today!
Everyone talks about love in ways that transcend what our naked eyes may want to believe. Love is love but you can’t just help it with who you love, Mr. jailer! We mostly do not love people but we do, however, fall in love with the idea of the person we think we do love.These falsetto of images that never materialised flash before my eyes every daybreak when I’m soaked in thoughts about when you’ll ever send an appeasing “don’t worry, be happy” text. At least I tried, I tried to call this cage home when I wasn’t sure. If we were to make a foot count of the copious amount of times I wanted break this barrier to connect with you through this cage you set up, the sea might dry up. The closer I get, the more distant you are from me. The cage was open all this while but I was probably too “drunk in love” to get the “shackles off my feet”!
Its beautiful but why so serious
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