اليوم ٩: تحدي بنفسج ل١٠٠ يوم من الكاتبة

ارتمت بين ذراعيه و توسدت حضنه لتلتقط آخر انفاس عمرها. و تحدثت من تحت حجاب التجاعيد و طلبت منه ان يحدثها عن ذكريات عمرهم الذي قضوه سوية و يقص عليها قصتهم للمرة الاخيرة.

حدثها قائلا.

“بين تلك الجدران الذهبية
بين تلك السكك
تلك الفرجان
على الرمال الحارقة
كنا نلتقي و نعيش حلم الطفولة.
نتزاحم تحت شمس الظهيرة.”

تخللت أصابعه أصابعها و اكمل:

“هل تذكرين
هل تذكرين ملمس الرحى
هل تذكرين قسوة الحبال
هل تذكرين عمرا مضى
و مضى من غير ان يُرى

هل تذكرين حبيبتي تلك الأحاديث القديمة

كيف ان فارسك المغوار امتطى ظهر السفينة

هل تذكرين لقائنا بعد البعد كيف كان

هل تذكرين قصص البحار التي اتيت بها من زمان

هل تذكرين المخاطر التي سردتها عليك يوما مضى.

هل تذكرين.”

و توالت الذكريات على لسانه و تدفقت القصص و الدموع. و تسارعت الساعات و مضت في عجل نحو الصباح. و افاقت الدنيا تبكي على حب توارثت قصصهم الأجيال.


Day 8: Banafsaj 100 day of writing

The world grows numb around me
I grow poisonous

Every breath is dreary
It’s a killer instinct, so dangerous

I feel my body caving down
I feel my self drown

I feel the pain taking over
My conscious, my body, my crown

I fall from my throne
Tangled in my robes of
Pride, arrogance, no agony
No sadness, just slipping on
The blood of my victims


Day 6: Banafsaj 100 days of writing



#day6 from #Banafsaj100daysofwriting is a reply to @rambling_sha ‘s instagram post. Why do we write. 😉 since I have an awesome handwriting I’ll write it down below

We can’t really say why we write but we know that it silences a scream within us. Somehow calms us. Like a warm cup of tea on an unexpected occasion, sweet, surprising, serene. We long for serenity, we long for peace. The mind of a writer is always troubled because the heart of a writer is forever doweling with sympathy and empathy to ourselves and the pains of the world. We write to silence certain demons and tame certain beasts.

Day 5: Banafsaj 100 days of writing


“Disclaimer: I found this picture on tumblr today and thought how real and relatable this actually is.”

He doesn’t wake up to soft music alarm anymore.. He wakes up to fire drill sounds that scare him out of his sleep.
She doesn’t open her eyes first. She stretches her arms and shakes her shoulder slightly to shed off the beauty of her dream to the horror of reality.
He inhales deep till his lungs inflate to fiery red and exhale hard the fumes of the dream.
She puts pink on her cheekbones to hide the pale of her skin. Perhaps a flashing lipstick, maybe red, definitely not nude color today. She needs more color like she needs air.
He puts on his whitest of clothes. Hides his darkness within. His watch, his pen. The perfect angel from every angel with a halo on his head. He smells of success musked with heavenly fruit.
We all stop for a second in front of our mirrors to check the new reflection. We assess the perfection of the masks we groom our selves with every morning.

Is this how we are supposed to live. Create a mask, survive, revive, & repeat.

Day 4: Banafsaj 100 days of writing


Once upon a cage,
I run, breathless, beat less, like a bird flying with its wings for the first time out of its cage. Like a dream turning into reality before the dreamers eyes. Like a prey flying from the hunter…

I want to run…

I see no escape.. I see no end. Just reliving the past as the present and predicting it for the future.

Just a void…