I desire to return home.
 burn the wood and light the candles of the pine-tiled room,
 Covered with lime-white silence,
 light the stairway to the dim mist,
 turn on the radio on its only station,
 walk barefoot,
 I listen to jazz...

 I wish I could go back to my closet,
 I put on my mountain boots and go out for a walk, taming history.
 Stumble into the reefs of the forest paved with the illusion of stones and survive...
 There are streams crossing the road,
 There are bridges that cut the streams and give way wide,
 There is room for me...
 Cheers!  There is room in existence...

 I go back to where the stories began,
 Where shadows play seductions among the trees,
 Blind trees make...

  Painting by Amir Khatib