💌
To sunny.
Performed and narrated by: @sunnywchen .
Written by: Jalal Al-Din Rumi.
Sunny and I first met at a dance class more than a year ago. On my birthday of last year, people were asked to make a presentation, or bring a poem.
She brought and read a poem of Rumi. The day after I asked if she can send it in audio on whatsapp so I can hear it again, and it's been sitting there ever since.
Since then, we have traveled, and ate good food, still danced on every occasion.
Then came the time to say beslama and bid her farewell, for her to go back to her home, athough she already was at hers.
We went to the beach to yet again share food, Yasmine brought a speaker, and the sunset came to save us one more time, and we danced one last time.
I remembered the poem she read in the first months we met, and I our shared love expressed itself through bodies, and this this came to be.
an ode to dance, to friendship, to movement, to words and what they move, to happy accidents, and thus life. 🌿
Taking part of the first edition of Festival Nafas by @tifletyoungleaders , with @thautres , was tbh one of the joys of life.
All thanks are due to the volunteers, the organizers, their families, and anyone who has attended, young and old, or was of any form of assistance.
Last but not least, to the wonderful coordinator @yasmine.bnz 💚
📍Tifelt
Have you ever been in a train or on a car ride and you just don’t really want to reach your destination, you feel a sort of heaviness lift off of your shoulders, as if you are not forced to exist. That is what the liminal is, it allows you to just be, in-between. In the physical world, the word originates from the literal frame of a window, the frame of a door.. could earthly life and what’s in it just be in a perpetual state of that, on the way, between here and there. Being in such a state, especially if one does know of the destination, unease or anxiety do kick in (which leads to meaning making, and also attempts such as these) but should that take away from it being a trip, and if uncertainty can be found in it, could that also be the gateway to freedom.
العتبة ديال الشرجم، العتبة ديال الدار، اللي هي ماهنا مالهيه، كاتولي ‘هنا’ ديالها بوحدها
My appreciations to the ones who have allowed this piece to come to life, bringing together mirrors, poems, windows, frames that attempt not to contain the work but to merely translate it, my deep thank yous to @dhiaa.biya@_____ouss@haris.hamza@h8mid@tarik_hajjam@nouaaaman
To Prix Mustaqbal for bringing humans together and displaying their bodies of work that speak to our souls in the only language we all recognize. To @olivera_alcantara and @ha______________r for their brilliant work.
The exhibition is on until Oct 31.
💙
The ones who leave us, never leave us 🌀🍀
Living beings about one another, and about the dead. said by the lands to the sky, once humans, leave, for good. where each name uttering, lasts one life, and one night.
A summer solstice and a sun’s long kiss.
It makes sense, it makes sense that today to is the start of a 4th month rather than the end of a 6th. Before a calendar was invented for a tax, before humans aimed further to submit time to them, or thought they were. A new year in Spring, an actualisation in Summer, for Persians, Babylonians, Mesoamericans, fires, gatherings, acknowledgments, star trackings, striking exactitudes, offerings, inevitable falsehoods, and hummings.
A day to be had year and year again, until the death of
a star, found in a small eternity, the eternity of its witnessing.
And what is sense and who is the senseless?
🌞
