By Fadi Abu Deeb

Beside a house of red bricks, a woman waits for me, but in my city all the houses are built of wood.

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Writing makes me think of an imaginary world.  Paining makes me believe it exists.

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Hope is to see a tree in the seed.  Madness is to await a tree emerging out of the blue.

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She stared at me with no doubt, as if my kiss was a universal law.

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I’ve been thinking to submit my sayings for days. When the day came, submissions were closed.