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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door




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The Desert


The sand. The dark, yellow sand. I see the desert under my feet... and I see the desert even more in the horizon. That emptiness consumes me; becomes me. That dark yellow landscape.

My ragged clothes. My long dirty beard. My headaches. My tired eyes. I look straight through the mirage, wondering if I could see my reflection in this false water... All I see is the sand. The dark, yellow sand. Where I meet my memories and regrets. My fears. My thirst. My anguish. My long mourned dreams. My rage, o my rage. The rage I, more than ever want… need to share with someone… my perfect someone; but all I have is this… dark and yellow friend. I fall down to my knees. I cry. I pray. I sleep. I dream. I wake up to find my prayers getting answered, whispered by the wind. I hear my name. They're calling out for me… "Redeem me... I repent", I cried…and then...

it rained.

There is a part of my soul that feels adressed by this blog, it is owerwhelming.

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