where is my bubble?

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I was just talking with my friends about the difference being here versus living in Egypt. despite the beauty of this city and all the innumerable gifts that abound, still, I miss being back home. I miss the part of me that thrived back home.

the one thing I definitely lost being here is my bubble. the sanctity and holiness of it. the bustling, starkly divergent and stimulating life in Egypt is quite inspiring. it opens inherent doors that allow me to cocoon in some place beautiful, even if it is just an armchair with a friendly ray of light, sit down and create layers upon layers of visions and make-beliefs. the collapse of humanness that I would see every day sparks a metaphor in me, and I see the world in terms of poetry and all that is chimerical and impossible to believe in.


here, it is all there. all the harmony, humanness and grace. nothing extends out of me. the lack of entropy just dulls me and I keep chasing myself in circles trying to find the motivation to be different. but no matter how hard I try, I find the uniqueness somewhere and I cannot be the faint, shining star I love trying to be.


and so, I miss Egypt. and it seems that I thrive in adversity and challenge. the softness of life here makes me harsh and severe, as the poetical, romantic part of me tries to find inspiration. there are no gifts to give, very little impact I can do. all I was learning these past three years is receivership.


and yes, I am grateful. receiving was extremely tedious on my soul. it still is, sometimes. but there’s another side of me that lightens my spirit and it’s the art in giving back and contributing to the healing of mankind.


and that vision of mine, being back, is almost there. they’re only months. and i’m patiently waiting in expectant faith blooming like june’s pink roses. 


until I meet myself again.

going with grace in an inscrutable world.

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