Is it possible to arrive without having ever departed?

What then is the space in-between and how does one reference the library from no absolute bookends?

Let’s try suspended animation instead, shall we?


Is There Anybody Out There?

Beep, beep, beep, beep,  
Crisis hotlines don’t ring anymore; only busy signals


Telegraphist, please: Three dits, three dahs, and three dits, to run them together without letter spacing. S.O.S!



Maybe smoke signal?





Metropolitan Love Affair


And somewhere far in the cavity of my skull, the nagging question; Will I walk the rope tomorrow or leave this place for good?


Drunken late night talks. Sloppy, stumblingly phrases effortless expose skeletons lurking the closets of most lovers. But not you, Beirut.

Buried below the glitter – rise apartments, civilizations in a layer cake of sediment. Sandwiched between earthquake ridden centuries.

This sack of bones cannot be uncovered by world-renowned excavators.


Dilluted Dissent

Retrieved from

Daher, Ghinwa.  “The threat that a peaceful smile brings to the fearful robots.”  Photograph.  Lightly (Blog), (2015).  Retrieved from  Original Photo

Without “them” there would be no “us” and so it is we are positioned before one another; eye to eye. Hoping for the other to willingly stand down, become bored, or at last resort: throw the first punch and justify our mutual gathering here today. And as you cross our line, we have our justification to cross yours. Into chaos we will plummet. No one can be clear about which party initiated the crossover, but surely in the aftermath we will blame you and you will blame us.

The spoils of war are most notable in the lost energy of individuals therein. From staunchly defended, diluted truths for which we fight, vehemently. Not long ago the nobility behind the cause was true and pure at its source. That was before we succumbed to a watered down version of the original as per our individual and collective egoic agendas.

Bloodied and battered from many missteps, our armies retreat licking their wounds. We regroup to gather momentum for the next showdown. No time allotted for reflection on the effectiveness of our approach. Logic rarely given light to the ceaseless cycle to which we have signed our lives over in the fight for beliefs. Beliefs that now take on a life of their own and have moved so far from the origin that they look only vaguely familiar even when we tilt our heads just right to one side. But yet we fight on…


The Freedom of Security

As we scramble to protect ourselves from unforeseen threats, inevitably we close our hearts to the beauty of connection. Each time we concede to “taking measures” for safety, we trade it for something greater and ultimately we lose a uniquely human trait called compassion; the very thing that was absent in the face of the most horrific human events. It is the perpetual state that we find ourselves in as a race.