While the sun was sinking in the far horizon..
I was throwing away my thoughts in the sea, perhaps they will sink too..
The colour of the sea was calling me..
I didn’t see what is left from the blue sea or the reflection of the sky..
was the sea fooling around?
I saw the sea wearing the colour of the sand..
To make me more nostalgic?
or is it the jealousy from my yearning to the warm sand..
Thought that I will stop and run so that my feet would touch what I imagine to be sand,
to fall in this trap and belong to the sea forever.


Nostalgia is pain
It is the wrestling waves
Challenge and Patience
Purposefulness and Failure
Hope and Frustration
Love and Hate
Imagination and Reality
Nostalgia is the person that we turn to in our imagination
It is Belief and Disbelief
To believe in a better tomorrow and to disbelief and lose faith
It is a Choice
Either we unite and gather what we were given from power and bless
Or to weaken, break-up and listen to all the nonsense that separate us
We are All Human
From Adam
From Soil
And we will return to the soil to begin the new immortal life which we determine now
We don’t know when or where we will end.
Nostalgia is Time and Place.
And other countless things
I’m writing these words and I’m in a moment of pain and longing
I don’t know if these words will resonate,
with every drop from the rain drops that are pouring from my eyes.
A state of madness and despair
Nostalgia is trying to arrive when others have already left
To stand on the road somewhere and you can’t catch up with them
Because they are gone
They don’t want you to follow them, but to take your own road
Each one of us has an own way
Nostalgia is to wake up and find out that you have wasted time of your life
longing to a mirage, an imagination
Nostalgia is to stop remembering
Questioning whether what is in your memory is reality or not,
To realise that you have added to it, some or much from your imagination
And to become not knowing of what was fact and what was just a weave of imagination.

الحنين الم
هو الأمواج المتصارعة
التحدي و الصبر
العزيمة و الفشل
الأمل و الإحباط
الحب و الكراهية
خیال و واقع
الحنين إنسان
نلجاء له في مخيلتنا
هو الإيمان أو الكفر
أن نؤمن بغد أفضل
أو أن نكفر ونفقد الإيمان
هو خيار
إما أن نتحد و نستجمع ما أوتينا من قوة ونعمة
أو أن نضعف و نتفكك و نستمع إلى كل التفاهات التي تفرقنا
كلنا بشر
كلنا من آدم
كلنا من تراب
و سنعود إلى التراب لنبدء حياة الخلود التي نحددها الان
لا نعرف متى و أين سننتهي
الحنين زمان و مكان
وأشياء أخرى لا تحصى
أكتب هذه الكلمات و أنا في لحظة من الالم و الشوق
لا اعلم اذا كانت هذه الكلمات سيصل صداها
مع كل قطرة من قطرات المطر التي تنهمر من عيناي
حالة من الجنون و اليأس
الحنين أن تحاول الوصول عندما غادر الآخرون
تقف على الطريق في مكان ما ولا تستطيع اللحاق بهم لانهم رحلوا
لا يريدون منك اللحاق بهم و إنما أن تسلك طريقك بنفسك
لكل منا طريق 
أن تصحو وتكتشف نفسك
و قد ضاع وقت من عمرك
و أنت تحن و تشتاق إلى سراب ،، خیال
الحنين أن تتوقف عن التذكر
تتساءل ما إذا كان ما بذاكرتك واقع أو خيال
و تدرك بأنك قد أضفت بعضا أو كثيرا من مخيلتك إلى الذاكرة
وبت لا تعرف ما كان حقيقة و ما كان مجرد نسج من خيال

The Horizon

Is it a coincidence that my bedroom window is facing that horizon which link me to my home. This thought came to my mind while I was watching Mariele Neudecker’s Veracity, when she talked about time and “ our relation to past, present and future ”, I imagined me in the present in Brighton, only the past and future are facing me, I see them and feel them, they are extending far beyond that horizon, yet, they are so close, making my heart beat so fast.

Whenever this heart wants to send those yearning beats, I stand by the window and look at the sky. Sometimes, when I look at the sea, I can imagine the geography, the map and my country that way, I imagine the sea, the warm sands, the dunes and I melt that in my thoughts, something beautiful and romantic about the horizon, how it connects us to the world.

Taxi Talks

Who wants it to snow? A question which was asked by the taxi driver, who was commenting on the weather, he said it snowed in the near areas and that there is a possibility that it will snow in Brighton. I replied to that question by saying, I do I hope it snows, I want to see the snow, He asked if I wasn’t born in UK, I told him no and that I’m not from here.

I noticed so many taxi drivers talking about the weather, like “ it’s a beautiful day today “ or “ It’s going to be rainy and wet next Sunday ” or “ If it snowed we can’t work”. Well I hope it snows for one day, let it snow at least in the Marina, I want to build the snowman.

It’s Monday!

I went to St. James street to grab my cappuccino from the Italian restaurant ‘Gelateria De Luca’ in Madeira Place. After the “ciao” I walked few steps towards Starbucks to wait for the taxi which I’ve already ordered while waiting for my cappuccino. He arrived on time (I should say that taxi streamline offers a great service & they are very friendly, call them on 01273 747474), I opened the door and after we’ve greeted each other, he asked if I had a good day, I replied yes and asked him the same, I can tell that he was hesitant about answering that and he said “ It’s Monday!.. the weather is ok!..” something was holding his thoughts, and something was holding my thoughts that I just kept my silence with no offer to make a conversation. That silence which had an opposite action in my mind, I guess we all have something that keeps our minds busy thinking and we don’t want to add more to it by listening to the stories of others. But in fact, well,, sometimes, if we try not to avoid listening to others for a minute, we could have solve something or help them. The same goes for us, sometimes, we need someone to listen to us.


I was looking at the world map upside down and wondered if this is how the world map should be. Then I flipped the map again and I looked at the destination from Brighton to Qatar, I flipped it again and now while it’s upside down it looked closer, yet far, I would go swimming, but I feel like a bird yearning to fly back to that warm nest, a feeling which I share, not only with students who came from different countries, but with the refugees around the world, with people who were forced to leave their homes and even the homeless that I pass by on the streets. Home is the mother that we all want to go to.

A song is playing in my head right now, sang by Marcel Khalife “Mother (Oummi)”.
Looking for answers
The eyes extend its sight trying to reach the fading horizon, at a time when part of the world is dressed in night. Someone is standing facing that horizon, that person is a nostalgic artist who paints a universal feeling, questioning, looking for answers and sometimes, throwing away the questions and thoughts like a fisherman throwing the net in the sea.
Extract from my MA Fine Art Essay on “Memory and Nostalgia in Painting​​​​​​​”

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