Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping it’s dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
I’m obsessed with Liya Kebede.
on the subject of street art…Here is some work by Banksy, one of my favorite street artists. Some of my favorite pieces of artwork are his satorical images in the Palestinian territories on the West Bank wall. Genius.
عائشة
Today I randomly remembered the street art in Asmara. All beautiful and blue, like the people. The irony in this piece is that the man seems to be casting a ballot…
عائشة
sometimes its like a familiar face in a strange place: the most beautiful greeting.
Three words that are so easy to type, so simple in isolation, and yet so difficult to say: Thinking about you, I want you, I love you.
I have never known a pain that throbbed as badly as the thought of unreciprocated love.
Mabsooteen?
Are you happy? A question that I was constantly greeted with when I first visited the land of my ancestors. Back then I thought it was something beautiful. The concept that my happiness could be someones’ first concern. Mabsooteen? But now I find that there is something quite perverse about a people living in conditions that are quite sad and yet have the ability to ask “Are you happy?”. What do we hope to affirm by asking that question? Mabsooteen? And what can I say to that? There is no restraint on what I can read, write, or say. I do not find myself whispering in the privacy of my own home. I haven’t been stopped and searched just because. My dreams and goals are allowed to stretch beyond the 12th grade. So yes I think that I am happy. But the question itself is not what is so upsetting to me. It is the fact that I am too afraid to return the question: only to hear lies and sad smiles عائشة
These are my boys! Never seen smiles that emit light like this.
