Windows that the green heart always loves. They remained exposed to the cold wind and to the warm spirits of people’s perfume. They were reserved for time, and a lifetime’s worth at that time. They made me sit as their guard in various places in the cities of the world, and I was satisfied because they were leaking to the soul a mist from that fugue cloud that it was searching for, carrying A happiness that makes you happy to the point of ecstasy, windows through which we escape with our dreams.
– A window on the sea of the Bosphorus Strait, or “Turkey Bogazi” in Turkish, where the Black Sea meets the Sea of Marmara. It was a late and rainy night looking out through that window that resembled a large balcony. That night, I was like a Sufi sheikh or a dervish following in the footsteps of Maulana “Jalal al-Din al-Rumi” in He was tired of his last days, tired of wandering, and his feet were exhausted. Only the soul could transport him and move with him in that spiritual buoyancy that resembled an isthmus. That window remained open to the water, the blue water of the sea, and the rain water that was still pouring outside like the supplications of a sighted dervish. The light was all of a sudden. I complained to her and complained to her. The days were tearing you between saying goodbye to a love that you wished would not end like this, and a long travel adventure that you wanted to begin but not end, in order to forget and not remember. They were seven lean days that crushed the soul, but they gave the soul. Many wings, this is what the knowers are made of, the sultans of knowledge, the mystics of the nights of manifestation, how they support the feet when something slips, that sea window made the heart beat again towards what rejoices, and makes life many colors, even if you cover it in the nights and at its dawn in robes. Heavy knowledge and deep certainty.
A winged window like a phoenix on the Beirut Sea. Her mornings were soft with that delicious breakfast, the delicious morning laziness, the calls of the silk pajamas when the daylight hours were forced to turn back a little, and that cold breeze that brought the fever of sleeping on the cushion of the sea chair, and her evenings suddenly heading toward the things she loved. The friends who come with their love, and the perfumes of the night distributed on the seats, do not make you leave your place. It is not like the evenings in Beirut when you are recovering, and the people are reconciled, and they are all like the heart of “Hanna the Drunk.” That balcony brought together the four directions, and brought together heads that were far apart… close together. Harmonious, but her dreams on her pillows are definitely not the same.
– A window overlooking a giant tourist ship like a city sailing towards a distant horizon. It kept sailing with you through the seas, moving from a calm sea to a stormy sea, and you felt nothing but the joy of that boy who did not want to grow up inside you, a window that was sharing your joy in the expansive blue, listening to the narration. The night from you is like a storyteller who never gets tired when he searches for the meanings of love, the details of infatuation, and the narratives of ecstasy, and when the birds of the heart fly, spreading their wings over those places where you entrusted the beautiful days and the serenity of the soul, that window remained faithful to you during its three weeks, and you were always thinking about who was there before you, and who You will be behind her, and was everyone as loyal to her details as you were?
– Windows, I wish we had made them open to time… and the dowry of a lifetime… windows. If man had not invented them, he would have lived in this life a great prison.
#Windows #escape #dreams