Dima

“O light! This is the cry of all the characters of ancient drama brought face to face with their fate. This last resort was ours, too, and I knew it now. In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.”
― Albert Camus, L’été

“في سقوطنا لا نتذكر صرخاتنا التي نطلقها, ولا نتذكر نوع محاولاتنا للإمساك بالأشياء التي تقينا السقوط, ولا نستشعر بالجروح التي تخطف دماءنا, فقط نهوي باحثين عن آخر عمق, نرتطم به حتى إذا استقر قرارنا عندها نتلمس جراحنا, ومواقعنا.”
― عبده خال, ترمي بشرر

“I wonder
from these thousand of "me's",
which one am I?
Listen to my cry, do not drown my voice
I am completely filled with the thought of you.
Don't lay broken glass on my path
I will crush it into dust.
I am nothing, just a mirror in the palm of your hand,
reflecting your kindness, your sadness, your anger.
If you were a blade of grass or a tiny flower
I will pitch my tent in your shadow.
Only your presence revives my withered heart.
You are the candle that lights the whole world
and I am an empty vessel for your light.
Rumi - "Hidden Music”
― Rumi

“THERE IS NOTHING more pathetically optimistic than the morning erection. I am depressed, unemployed, unloved, basement-dwelling, and bereaved, but there it is, every morning like clockwork, rising up to greet the day, poking out of my fly cocksure and conspicuously useless. And every morning, I face the same choice: masturbate or urinate. It’s the one time of the day where I feel like I have options.”
― Jonathan Tropper, This is Where I Leave You