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.
Writing makes me think of an imaginary world. Paining makes me believe it exists.
Hope is to see a tree in the seed. Madness is to await a tree emerging out of the blue.
She stared at me with no doubt, as if my kiss was a universal law.
I’ve been thinking to submit my sayings for days. When the day came, submissions were closed.