writing
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Songs have been made to the sea in anger, to the sea in calm. And the melody of the song was the Tiffany blue water and the little scuttling fish that flitted by and were gone. …And with little waves on the shore came the distant barking of dogs.
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Virtue is like a wild fire burning in the chest, and on the lack of integrity comes its rage. …It is a place for killing because of the music too.
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I think that I should avoid the shore, when the world is making a party to search that shore. Maybe threading my way through the edge of an uncharted city will better educate me. It is the understanding of the Self that I seek and not the knowledge. …It looked full into my eyes for…
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Our hearts finally explode and we’re wise enough to endure the pain and finally realize that we are indeed heart broken. …Her arms and legs stood out in tension.
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On the surface of time travel, we can only see mere delusions. The nerves of imagination pulse and vibrate with extraordinary thoughts. Life is as stern and real as ever at the same time. And curious dark residues condense and precipitate. …The Self closed itself in against the night.
Hadi Atallah 