I have been thinking a lot about what I am most grateful for this year, and I’ve realized that it is the luxury of dreaming – the luxury to dream big and to go after those crazy dreams. Furthermore, the luxury of having a support system that nurtures those wild ambitions, tolerates my madness in going after them, and are all-in for the whirlwind adventure.

I’ve heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don’t really care for music, do you?

Well it goes like this; the fourth, the fifth,

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing Hallelujah

2016 was a heavy year at the macro level, the planet aching under the weight of all the tragedies and disappointments. Yet at a more micro level, I can’t help but feel blessed. So I ask you all to take a moment of silence to pray for all those fallen stars we have lost in 2016.

Professionally 2016 has been extremely rewarding elhamdollelah. I am often driven by the philosophy that “if you are still talking about what you did yesterday, then you have not done much today.” Yet the drawback of that philosophy is that you often lose track of the multitude of reasons you ought to be proud and happy within that time-frame.

2016 was a year of big risks. I’m not much of a gambler, yet 2016 was certainly a high stakes year. I quit the comforts of a regular pay check and a job I know I could do well, to follow THE dream. I am now a very lucky co-founder of a start-up that I love with the same intensity and whole-heartedness that I would my unborn kids. Acumen Consulting is almost one. I dare say that this was a phenomenal first year. It was a year of challenges, learning, growth, patience, and hard work. We saw instant success, suffered the business cycle and fought hard to make come-backs when we needed to. I learned that there is possibly greater layers of multi-tasking than I thought imaginable. I’m greatly appreciative of the collaboration, team-work, value creation and success. I’m proud of us for working both hard and smart to contribute to changing Egypt for the better. I am indebted for all the help and support we got along the way.

Well baby I’ve been here before

I’ve seen this room and I’ve walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you

And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch

And love is not a victory march

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

2016 was a year of great variance, its highs were sensational and its lows were back-breaking. 2016 was filled with health scares, trips to the emergency rooms, time spent in hospitals, clinics, labs and waiting rooms. There were so many funerals as friends and family bid farewell to siblings, kids, parents and friends.  There have also been so many near misses; so many tears; and so much faith and hope that things will get better. Our fears and our pains bring us together. Hugs remain the sincerest (and at times the only) form of support and solace during these darkest times.

2016 was also a year of love! Four weddings and a funeral. All grand acts of love! Four of the closest people in my life got married. I got to be a bridesmaid once, sister of the bride 3 times, best man once and wedding co-host once 🙂

Through it all they were days and nights full of the pursuit of perfection. More significantly they were wedding bashes full of music, dancing, joy, family, friends, surprises and vows. May their lives be everything like those wedding nights: endless symphonies of love.

I remain grateful to all parties who contributed to making my sister’s wedding perfect. I’m thankful to Sarah for managing the customized M&M delivery. I’m indebted to Sandra for re-arranging the first dance. I’m start-struck that the talented Nathalie Alain took time out of her hectic schedule to come in and record it. That studio recording time will forever be a highlight for me.

Mustafa Ghannam’s death has changed me. In a sense it has changed all of us. Yet it has triggered dormant emotions that had originated with Bassem Sabry’s death. (Please remember both in your prayers and your end of year donation themes). I’m once again in an existential phase. I’m obsessing about my mortality, my legacy and what I would like to leave behind. It took a lot of soul searching, yet I have realized that I want my legacy to be education. I want to bring knowledge and science into this world. I want to improve the quality of education in Egypt. I want to provide access to a better alternative to Egyptian talent.

Well, baby there’s a God above

But all I’ve ever learned from love

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

And it’s not a cry that you hear at night

It’s not somebody who’s seen the light

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

2016 was the first time in 6 years that I got a proper summer vacation. I’m grateful for the opportunity to see some more of Europe before the devaluation. I’m grateful for having such amazing travel buddies to share the moments with. I will always have a special spot in my heart for Tegernsee and Cesky Krumlov. I’m grateful for the ziplining adventure (and that despite emergency room pit-stop it ended well), shopping sprees, lakeside & riverside dinners, high profile oud concerts, Ibrahim Maalouf by the pyramids, and countless other perfect moments.



I’m grateful to family and friends whom have been partners in crime, back-bones, sounding boards and voices of reason throughout the madness that was 2016. I’ve discovered new facets of these amazing individuals which I appreciate endlessly.

I tend to claim that my universe often treats me like my success is inevitable/easy/expected. While their faith is extremely flattering, given how tough this year has been, I’m realizing the extent to which divine pats on the heads & “bravo”s have re-energized my stamina through it all. I’m grateful for every opportunity we have had to raise Acumen Consulting’s name. I’m grateful to RiseUp’s overbooked workshop. I’m grateful to the ICT Khales application launch. I’m grateful to the YEEL events and conference. I’m grateful to the “thank you” that our clients share. I’m grateful for having gotten into Stanford. I am grateful. A thousand times over.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah



Waiting is by far the oldest and most painful forms of torture. I hate hospital waiting rooms. I chickened out today. I was unable to sit through another disinfectant smelling corridor listening to machines beep and watching doctors and nurses fly all over the place. Yet here I am a 20-minute drive away waiting… She should be fine. It is all routine. No need to worry.

Yet you see, those are pointless reassurances, because in the truth of the matter, the extent to which you worry is less a function of the scale of the incident but rather a function of the extent to which someone is precious. Bella most definitely was precious. There she was, the child I had never had, my virtual baby sister in the hospital yet again.

It was a long and bumpy ride. I met Bella 5 years ago, back then we didn’t click. We existed in parallel comfort circles with what we believed to be no common ground. This revelation of how wrong I had been will taint my outlook to new people for a lifetime to come. One should not be too quick to jump to conclusions and dismiss individuals. Yet there she was 5 years later, blood, near & dear, in can’t-live-without status…. absolutely precious.

She flashed me a 100 megawatt smile accompanied by a genuine hug… “I miss you”… “I’m pregnant”… “I didn’t’ want to tell you long distance”. My heart sang. I had been having what was undoubtedly a tough weak and my confidence and morale where at an all-time low. She instantly made it all better. She sat me down, shared her joy, heard my woes, told me it wasn’t my fault (repeatedly), heard me argue, made strong and valid points, hugged me and made it all alright.

Here I am… incapable of returning the favour. A conversation and a hug would not magically make it all alright.

She had a gut feeling. Do mothers always know? My morning meeting ended early in the vicinity of her house, something made me want to go over. I had a burning need to see her that I can’t explain. She was different, she looked tired, she shared her concerns. She had a feeling that it was happening again, that she was losing the baby. I naively thought it was just lingering trauma from last time, I delivered a pep talk, told her she was worried for nothing, told her we must stop praising her composure because it is starting to decline from all the envy. I left her to get some rest and headed out to my other meeting with the promise to meet her at a doctor’s appointment later that day. The entire arrangement impromptu and unplanned.

I make it to the doctor’s clinic. She is running late as is her hubby. We see the doctor (her husband hasn’t arrived yet). He makes an offhand comment about how good friends we must be since she entrusted me with this trip. It hits me, how blessed I am for her friendship. You know how sometimes people’s nicknames evolve from their personalities. I am confident that is how “Bella” came along. She is by far one of the most beautiful souls I know. She re-adjusted my definition for words such as “tolerant” or “non-judgmental” or “considerate”. She set the bar so high I can’t imagine mere mortals measuring up. Her sarcasm and wit often had me grinning like an idiot. While her support saved my ass numerous times.

Doctor takes her into another room for the sonar. He comes out, looks me in the eye and shakes his head. I raise an inquisitive eyebrow and tells me that it isn’t good; that it is the same old story. She steps out a minute later… my heart almost stopped. The look in her eyes will haunt me forever. Bella never cries… or never in public. She looked broken. I had always used the word loosely but at that moment, she embodied it in a way beyond my ability to simply phrase. Her eyes were swelling with tears that were to remain prisoners. The light in her eyes was gone. My knees went weak. I felt the weight of the room come crashing down. I stood up to hug her, she warned me that she wouldn’t be able to handle a hug. We took the elevator down as her husband was arriving. No hug there either. We went home having failed miserably at being able to console her. What do you say? What do you do? How do you explain to the most perfect potential mother you know that it isn’t time yet… that there was nothing she could have done differently? How do you lighten her load? My remaining reserved of confidence and optimism are gone. I exist in a perpetual state of almost crying in fear and angst. My heart goes out to her.

The next day, I cut a work day short and show up at her door. We watch light movies and snack while she takes her meds and waits for the action. That night clinched it for me… it was a painful revelation and one that makes me appreciate all mothers under completely new light. I realized that you can go to bed with your child in your arms, knowing they are in pain, knowing they are heartbroken and knowing that there is absolutely NOTHING that you can do, save pray… May God have mercy on all our souls. Yet you must wake up the next morning with the faith that they will be better, and they will be better. Yet it remains an insanely humbling experience.

My saving grace is this one idea… “She is well.” I realize the gravity of her loss and the selfishness of my perspective, yet at the end of the day that is what really mattered. That elhamdollelah she is well, will be well… and will have other shots in the future at making other babies. Apparently it takes time and sacrifice to get it right. You don’t get another Bella from the first go. Sexy little geniuses take practice and are one in a million. May God give her all her heart desires.

The Namesake

Take your first impression and acknowledge that it is probably wrong. She is not the girl you see nor the girl you perceive. Take a moment and look beyond the facade of bravado and indifference. Give it a chance, she will smile, if you are really lucky she will let you in. If all you got was a shrug and a “3ady”, don’t give up, try harder, wait…. the best things in life are worth the wait. This is coming from the epitome of impatience. Yet trust me, you want to wait, you want to meet the girl beneath it all.

Pray, don’t judge, it isn’t an arrogant air. She isn’t snubbing you. Nor is she claiming to be too cool for school. She is merely taking you in, sizing you up, attempting to understand how much damage you are capable of inflicting and the extent to which you would be inclined to inflict damage. She is working overtime trying to avoid getting hurt, she isn’t about to take a chance on you or me.

It was inevitable, the tough girl act, you see our twisted society has given her no other options. Be tough or get trampled over. Be tough or get abused. Be tough or get cheated. Be tough or die. Be tough! So tough she had to become.

Incidentally, I have this quote running through my head:

“I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. Even if they dress in rags, even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young. They’re still princesses. All of us are. Didn’t your father ever tell you that? Didn’t he?”

I am angry at her universe for not telling her enough, for not re-enforcing the message at every opportunity. She IS a princess. She is worthy. She is important. She is loved. She is perfect. She matters.

Moreover, she maintained the classiness and attitude of princesses against all odds. She remained clean, pure and genuine in a society that ostracized you for all of the above. She repeatedly lost all sense of security and stability. Life as she knew it was constantly being torn from under her feet and radically altered before being thrown back into her lap. Even the constants in her life held that change against her, defined it as a shortcoming, accepted it as an unchangeable reality, sought to bury her spirit under these faulty realizations. The fallacy of realism, of protection.

She decided she didn’t need them. She could be a nation of 1, closed up from all the madness. She embraced the tasks at hand diligently, striving every day to be independent… to be bigger… better… smarter… stronger… tougher. She didn’t need them. She could take care of herself. All she had to do was work harder and embrace life without them.

Yet a decade later it will fully hit her… the extent to which she is exhausted, the scale of what she has attempted to take on, the futility of doing so in a society like ours. I have tremendous amounts of respect to who she is and what she has done. Yet I fear that in seeking to be independent she has excused them from their roles, given them a guilt-free way out. I feel she ought to call them on their bull shit and have them own up to their responsibilities. Perhaps then she would feel less strained, less tired, less abandoned and more pampered. Perhaps then society would give her a break because she would be better conforming to their norms.

May she get to be treated the way she deserves to be treated. May we miraculously mature as a society. May she realize that she is a princess, that she is loved, that she is worthy, and that she doesn’t have to do it all on her own.

Collapsed Alex Building

This isn’t a news piece. Nor is it a political article.

Rather this post has a more humane and fragile motive. I write to you not based on contempt for the government for letting it get this far. Nor out of sheer anger at the owner of this doomed building.

I write to you as a person who has lost loved ones in that tragic event. One of the few survivors is an aunt. May God grant her patience and tolerance; for she has lost both her mother (my grandma) and a 20 year old daughter (a cousin) who was supposed to get engaged on New Year’s.

This is not a rant, instead it’s a plea. I ask you all to remember the victims of this horrendous crash in your prayers.

Birthday Rant

Was in Alex over the weekend for my cousin’s 21st b-day… yes .. yes … you know you are getting old when people who’s births you remember and who you’ve cradled are actually turning 21 and are now legally liable for their actions….

Birthday was being held at a new cafe in Kafr Abdu called “Sprinkles” (remember the name it’s important for my purpose) which had been featured in a recent issue in G-mag.

She had agreed with the owner that we’d have the tiny space to ourselves and that the owner would handle decorations. Owner would also deliver one extremely expensive custom b-day cake at 8:30 pm (remember the time).

The following events ensued:

2 hours before the b-day time (b-day was scheduled to start at 7:30) owner calls to say she couldn’t arrange for the decor, we should handle it.

Actual arrival; place not prepared and air conditioner is busted.

At 8 pm, table is finally set and the AC still isn’t working, man in charge has no knowledge of agreed upon cake.

People start arriving and are cramped in the tight space with no air conditioning on a hot summer night.

9 pm we call to ask about the cake and are told it’s on it’s way and will arrive in 10 minutes.

The same conversation takes place every 20 minutes from 9 pm till 10:30 pm when people start leaving.

10:30 pm one of the guests decided to take matters into her own hands, calls owner and gives her a piece of her mind.

11:00 pm we decide to pull a revolution we demand our money back, say we are not interested in the cake and decide to leave.

Couldn’t end the b-day without singing. We stand in the middle of the tiny cafe in the middle of the fight and sing Happy Birthday at the top of our lungs. We take our money and take off amidst showers of apologies from the man in the store and from the owner who’d only just arrived.

Her excuse: Delivery boy dropped the cake and we had to do over.. YEAH RIGHT!

Anyways we promised her that her sabotage of a girl’s 21st would not go unpunished. Hence here is our rant. People don’t do business with that store, they are not dependable and just downright RUDE!!!

Yalla.. Juka out

A vacation is….

A vacation is…

Waking up around noon to the smell of fresh pancakes coming from the kitchen.

Playing PlayStation with an energetic 6 year old as a means of waking up/ regaining mobility, rationality and functionality.

Hitting the beach and lying all day in the sun.

Having a pool all to yourself to just chill, play water polo, or teach the newest addition to the family to swim (gosh she’s cute).

Getting to wear all sorta outrageous stuff you wouldn’t dream of wearing on a weekday in Cairo.

Live BBQ sessions where everybody (fresh from the beach and dripping wet) pitches in.

Family and friends gathered under the star lit sky drinking tea in the breeze and catching up.

Card (tarneeb) tournaments on the floor in front of the cabin that would go on to all hours.

An old fashioned beat box (honest) working through and iPod and car kit 😀

Driving on the Alex corniche windows down, wind playing with your hair, your favourite peeps in the car jamming to the tunes.

Not having to study or go to work and the maximum mental effort you do would probably be a morning soduku or cross-word puzzle.

Switching off your cellphone.

Not blogging for 10 days (sorry about that).

Trying out every single cafe that’s opened since the last time you were there.

Enjoying the warmth of a friend’s shisha at an open air venue.

Ahhhh. Doesn’t it just suck when those 10 days are over! Till next year paradise!

P.S. To all the people who were involved in the previously mentioned havoc: Missing you already!

The Real Me

More poetry by the sis, will get her to move into a separate blog if the flow continues.

I wonder why I have versions of me
the polite, the outspoken and the real me.
I guess it’s a combination of all of me,
but is only revealed when I’m at ease;
with the people I’m not worried will judge me.
See, there’s the polite me when I meet someone new,
and there is the outspoken me, mostly when I’m afraid or provoked
But then there’s me that comes out when I’m with friends and comfy
Now that’s what I don’t understand about me
I’m me when I’m with friends I trust and think of as just a friend
Or with people I don’t care what they think of me.
But when there’s someone I really like, I’m too afraid of being judged
so I’m not really me, I’m the polite, perfect me
Although I hope if he’ll like me, he’ll like the real me.


Mother’s Day :)

Ode to a mother

A day to celebrate mothers…
Like they could ever be celebrated in a day.

Women extraordinary beyond description…
Like my words can ever do them justice.

How do you say thank you?
Like you could ever voice that emotion.
To a woman who’s earned undying devotion:

Every day.
Even if I don’t say it enough.
Even if sometimes I don’t act like its true.
I know, I’ll forever love you.

To my mom, on Mother’s day

Song going through my head is Marsel Khalifa’s Kahwato Ommy
أحن الى خبزي أمي
و قهوة أمي
و لمسة أمي
و تكبر فيً الطفولة
يوما على صدري يومي
و أعشق عمري
لأني إذا مت أخجل من دمع أمي

خذيني أمي إذا عدت يوما وشاحا لهدبك
و غطي عظامي بعشب
تعمد من طهر كعبك
و شدي وثاقي بخصلة شعري
بخيط يلوح في زيل ثوبك

ضعيني اذا ما رجعت
وقودا في تنور نارك يا أمي
و حبل غسيل على سطح دارك
لأني فقدت الوقوف بدون صلاة نهاري

هرمت فردي نجوم الطفولة
حتى أشارك صغار العصافير
درب الرجوع لعش انتظارك

أمي أمي أمي أمي

أحن الى خبزي أمي
و قهوة أمي
و لمسة أمي
و تكبر فيً الطفولة
يوما على صدري يومي
و أعشق عمري
لأني إذا مت أخجل من دمع أمي

Poetry by the sis.

Be nice people, it’s her first attempt.

If you only knew
How I feel for you
Then maybe you’ll know
Why I feel so blue

I see you there
Right in front of me
You act like you care
You look after me

I cherish every word
Every look if i dare
For I know it must end
Even though it’s not fair

At the very end
I must face the fact
He’s just my friend
No more than that

If only you knew….

That’s all folks, she’d appreciate your feedback. Show the girl some love 🙂

Stormy Weather II

Continued from…..

Suddenly a fuzzy image started to appear in the haze that is my awarness. It seemed like it was round red lights. Dear lord, it was the breaklight of a Kia Sephia. I snapped out of my day dream just in time, I slammed the brakes really hard and my car came to a screeching halt. I could hear honks of disapproval all around.

I had not realized how long I had been out, the distant memory still hung sweet in the air, was a miracle I had not crashed, the lord is good. Dalida was through and now the stereo was blaring Whitney Huoston’s “I have nothing, nothing, nothing, If I don’t have you….”

Promised myself to be a more careful driver the remainder of the way. The rain had gotten worse. I glanced up at the skies.


It was my first day at a new school. I was a big girl now and starting 1st grade. I must have been four at the time. Was so scared, I so didn’t want to go. I missed my beloved kindergaden. I didn’t know any kids in this new school and the classes were enormous.

My parents had both come along to make sure I settled in ok. I was a very outspoken child with an opinion on everything. I tried to reason with them. Argue. Assure them that I would much prefer to be home schooled.

That didn’t seem to be working, so it was time to bring on the big guns; TEMPER TANTRUM. I screamed, wailed put my foot down all to no avail. I even turned on the waterworks and made sure I gave them a guilt trip for abandoning me there.

When all else had failed, my father made a suggestion. He said, why don’t you give it a try. Just attend the first class, if you don’t like it we will go home. Naturally I didn’t trust them, so I decided to bind them there. I left with them my lunchbox (could have been barbie that year, not positive). Figured they wouldn’t go home and leave their little defensless daughter hungry.

I went in and was soon engrossed in all the school activities. I had really found myself in my element and was loving every minute of it. It wasn’t till lunch that I had actually remembered that I had told them to wait for me outside. I ran out to see them, but I had been tricked. They had left me the lunchbox with the teacher and had gone home from the morning, certain that I would enjoy school.

Later that day they came to pick me up. They both looked a bit anxious not knowing how I was gonna greet them. Parents !!!(eye roll). Like I could ever be upset with them. Ran over, gave them both bear hugs and that was that.


Stereo is now playing “I’m a big big girl in a big big world”

Don’t you just love a good collection CD !!

Stormy Weather

Last Friday whilst I was driving home from my book club session the skies were an odd shade of navy blue and the clouds were almost black. The really daunting skies a warning of the storm to come.

Suddenly the skies were filled with a flash of lightening, the power and intensity of its light astonishing. I stared at the brilliant line rapidly spreading through the heavens. I’m reminded of greek mythology and how Zues would throw his lightening bolts in order to send rain falls in order to punish those foolish mortals below or to reward them.

Thunder filled the skies but it was wasted on deaf ears for we were all sheltered in our cars, our little protected personal space, retreating to the comfort of our stereos. My own car air was filled with the voice of Dalida “Kelma 7elwa we kelmetein, 7elwa ya balady…”. God I love that song.

Then somthing really wierd started to happen, with every lightening flash I was temporarily blinded and it reminded me of camera flashes of the past. It was quite a unique trip down memory lane.


I was a young toddler, perhaps 3 or 4 years old. We used to live in the UAE where I was raised. We were home for the summer vacationing with the family in Alexandria. My grandparents to my Mom’s side lived in a 2 floor villa. Villa had quite a huge garden and my uncle (my mom’s younger brother) had a wolf dog that was big enough to be a bear. She was amazing. I was so in love with that dog. She would give me horseback rides. We would bathe her as a group activity me and my uncle using the garden hose.

That particular summer she had given birth to a litter of puppies. She had delivered in our basement and wasn’t letting anyone near them. She had a hostile atitude and was being overprotective. I on the otherhand was a child and a very curious one at that. Each day my desire to see those puppies was escalating. So one day when my uncle was busy doing something I walked down the basement steps to get a sneak peak.

Next thing my parents knew I was walking towards them holding a puppy in each hand by the scruff of their necks, barely able to carry them, extremely dirty, and with a look of unprecedented pure joy on my face. Look daddy, puppies. My uncle shot the mother dog a look and to his amazement she was completely resigned regarding the whole situation. She realized that I too was a baby who meant no harm and needed to be taken care off. She just kept circling me afraid I’d drop them.

Don’t know why that particular memory popped into my head. I guess it was the whole Dalida effect, plus earlier that day my friend had called me a cat person so the dogs in my life were begging to differ.

More flashes in issues to come.

P.S. I’m a bit of a cheat.. this peice is almost a year old.. it’s just it had never been posted.. and for a couple of months now.. I’ve had little to no inspiration. Hoping to resume the series. IF you guys/girls like this one.

DB Shobrawy’s Degrees of Seperation

I ran into this non-political article on DB Shobrawy’s blog. I decided to try my hand at the degrees of seperation. Turns out I’m more corrupt connected than I thought.

The objective is to count number of links (degrees of seperation between you and modern day celebrities).


Hussein and Mustafa Fahmy (1)

Yussra (1)

Mohamed ِِAly (director of Le3bet el 7ob) (2)

Hind Sabry (3)

Khaled Abu Elnaga (3)

Mahmoud El3esseily (2)

Yussry Nasrallah (2)


Rachid M. Rachid (1)

Mahmoud Mohieldeen (1)

Youssef Ghaly (2)

Ahmed Nazif (2)

Farooq El Okdah (2)

Fayza Abu Elnaga (2)

Abulgheit (2)

Go figure, I know a good portion of our current cabinet. I’ve met some of the others on occassions, but that is not sufficient to constitute knowing the person.

I’ll be adding people as I remember them. 😀

Tagging Sou, OpeRon, Tarek and whoever feels like doing it.

Be Strong

Special dedication to a young lady.. she knows who she is.

Be strong child… they said;
in the face of any storm
Be brave child… they said;
when the lonely nights are cold

Advice from friends and strangers;
like the matter was all up to me
Put themselves in my shoes;
test how strong and brave they’ll be

There is only so much one can handle;
some shocks too great to comprehend
Must look for the force within;
must believe that time will mend

Holding on to my faith as I face this storm
Praying ever moment for nights less lonely less cold
Brave and Strong I ain’t! I’m just a child growing old.


Growing Pains

Pencil markings on the room wall
Memories of a child’s growing tall
Child-proof locks and safety pins
A hundred different little things
Packed in boxes and stowed away
To be remembered some other day

Wall fills up with pictures we took
My library fills with a hundred books
New perceptions formed as I read
Disney’s Lion King became Hamlet
The pair of jeans I once lived in
Now spends weeks in the laundry bin
School bag replaced by a sleek leather file
My addidas with heels that I totally despise

Pencil markings on the room wall
Memories of a child’s growing tall
Child-proof locks and safety pins
A hundred different little things
Packed in boxes and stowed away
To be remembered some other day

My walkman a discman then an mp3
A digital world. Next? a robotic me!
My tennis racket gathered dust
A favourite chain turned into rust
Take That poster down, Maroon 5 up
Similar minor changes to all my stuff
Pinki swears archaic as we learned to lie
We’d learn much worse things before we die

Pencil markings on the room wall
Memories of a child’s growing tall
Child-proof locks and safety pins
A hundred different little things
Packed in boxes and stowed away
To be remembered some other day

Chaotic and hardly worth the read
Those lines I jot on a clean white sheet
To rant and lament days long gone
To moan of pains of growing old
Going through one such memory box
What do you know, the Beatles still rock
I fingered the keys of a piano I once played
A melody to the song of the growing pains.


Alexandria Wedding

Went to my cousin’s wedding in Alex last night. It was a really nice evening, they were a very becoming couple, really suited each other and I got to spend quality time with family. We danced all night, was really sweet.

Their first dance was an Arabic song by Mohamed Nour (name eludes me right now) and I couldn’t help but wonder (girls are going to understand this more than guys) what I would have preferred, I leave you with one of my top 3 choices.

Good night all and 3okbal all the single people out there.

“I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain

The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful
Stop me and steal my breath.
Emeralds from mountains thrust toward the sky
Never revealing their depth.
Tell me that we belong together,
Dress it up with the trappings of love.
I’ll be captivated,
I’ll hang from your lips,
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above.

I’ll be your crying shoulder,
I’ll be love’s suicide
I’ll be better when I’m older,
I’ll be the greatest fan of your life.

Rain falls angry on the tin roof
As we lie awake in my bed.
You’re my survival, you’re my living proof.
My love is alive not dead.
Tell me that we belong together.
Dress it up with the trappings of love.
I’ll be captivated,
I’ll hang from your lips,
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above


I’ve been dropped out, burned up, fought my way back from the dead.
Tuned in, turned on, remembered the things that you said

[Chorus x2]

The greatest fan of your life.
…greatest fan of your life.

It sounds better than it reads, I’d download if I were you 🙂