I can't believe I'm back in Jordan, all I know is I'm the happiest person on earth that I'm back again.
I can tell myself "El hemdellah 3ala salamti", for all who might wonder right now what on earth made me return,I would say simply, I didn't like it there.
I will be back to blogging again soon inshallah, I think I'm still sad for something I have just know about "I missed the August JP meeting", oh no! please not again :)
till we meet again, and I blog again, hope it will be soon.
31 August, 2006
19 July, 2006
Bye, I will always miss you
Dear bloggers, friends, all,
I would like to tell that I will leave Jordan to Australia next week 25th /7/2006, and I really don't know if I will be able to post again, as i'm going there, without much expectations, its like i'm going to the unknown.
wish me luck, I really need your prayers, I will miss you, thanks for all of you who visited my blog, or wrote me a comment, or one day helped me to find the right direction.
Hope i wll be able to write again, but I think i will be busy searching for a job, to provide for my basic needs.
I love you all,
Proactivity Group is your home, and hope it will always be.
Eyad
I would like to tell that I will leave Jordan to Australia next week 25th /7/2006, and I really don't know if I will be able to post again, as i'm going there, without much expectations, its like i'm going to the unknown.
wish me luck, I really need your prayers, I will miss you, thanks for all of you who visited my blog, or wrote me a comment, or one day helped me to find the right direction.
Hope i wll be able to write again, but I think i will be busy searching for a job, to provide for my basic needs.
I love you all,
Proactivity Group is your home, and hope it will always be.
Eyad
13 July, 2006
She Loved Naji Al-Ali
She was simple, but she knew what love means, that love is sacrifice, she never liked philosophy, but she believed that love is not just a word; it is to give more than to take.
Before dawn, she wakes up to check on him, he was sleeping like an angel, he gets in deep sleep the moment he puts his head on the pillow, she loves to see him sleeping beside her, with that angelic look on his face, he smiles even in his sleep, she looked out of the window, to see if there was someone outside their house, it was war time, when she hears something she holds his hand, she wants him always to be with her, she puts her ear near his heart, as if she wants to make sure he is still alive.
She lived in the camps somewhere, he lived there too, and she was as poor as he was, when he saw her the first time, they fell in love, they blamed him, she is not beautiful, he never listened to them, he was like all boys in the camp, playing war games, no hide and seek any more, when the day came, they got married, as thousands of people in the camps, one room house, and big hope, in a better future.
He went to the gulf, he took her and the children, to make some money, but he returned back to Lebanon, he preferred the poverty of the camps than living in that consumerism way of living, Palestinians forgot their dreams of coming back, he thought it was better to live in the camps where one cannot forget his roots, and his people misery, he wanted to live his dream.
They lived in a time where assassinations killed innocent, and patriots, he was no exception, many times he received a warning, stop what you do, or we will kill you, he ignored them. Every morning she would wake up early, get in the car, and start the engine, to check if they booby trapped his car, she did that every morning, she wanted him to live, she wanted him to draw, as she loved him more than herself.
She didn’t know that they would kill him, because she thought that she could protect him, she forgot that there is no mercy in this world, but when they told her that he was killed, she cried, but then she smiled and remembered that he would never die, his drawings will make him immortal, Handala will never die.
Before dawn, she wakes up to check on him, he was sleeping like an angel, he gets in deep sleep the moment he puts his head on the pillow, she loves to see him sleeping beside her, with that angelic look on his face, he smiles even in his sleep, she looked out of the window, to see if there was someone outside their house, it was war time, when she hears something she holds his hand, she wants him always to be with her, she puts her ear near his heart, as if she wants to make sure he is still alive.
She lived in the camps somewhere, he lived there too, and she was as poor as he was, when he saw her the first time, they fell in love, they blamed him, she is not beautiful, he never listened to them, he was like all boys in the camp, playing war games, no hide and seek any more, when the day came, they got married, as thousands of people in the camps, one room house, and big hope, in a better future.
He went to the gulf, he took her and the children, to make some money, but he returned back to Lebanon, he preferred the poverty of the camps than living in that consumerism way of living, Palestinians forgot their dreams of coming back, he thought it was better to live in the camps where one cannot forget his roots, and his people misery, he wanted to live his dream.
They lived in a time where assassinations killed innocent, and patriots, he was no exception, many times he received a warning, stop what you do, or we will kill you, he ignored them. Every morning she would wake up early, get in the car, and start the engine, to check if they booby trapped his car, she did that every morning, she wanted him to live, she wanted him to draw, as she loved him more than herself.
She didn’t know that they would kill him, because she thought that she could protect him, she forgot that there is no mercy in this world, but when they told her that he was killed, she cried, but then she smiled and remembered that he would never die, his drawings will make him immortal, Handala will never die.
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