Category Archives: writing&blogging


The shadow reflecting in every corner

The spirit flying in the room’s atmosphere

How come you can be everywhere?

How come each word and each picture links back to you?

It goes back to you, to the person, to the spirit, to the life

To the life that faded long ago

To the spirit that was engraved within many and not only one

To the person that turned into an image

It all goes back to you!


Reflected by Nour Al-amine

Words vs. Blank

Scratching words; wasting ink in search for a meaning.

In search of a meaning, of a word, of a world.

Waste of ink.

Waste of words .

Waste of time .

What a world we live in?

What is the meaning behind all this?

Words on papers shouting desperately, shouting out for life, shouting to catch a breath.

The mess of the ink and dancing words on a paper.

Limited by a paper, locked in a book, there is no way out.

Escaping the paper means the end, the end of the word, the end of the world. 

Without words, pages stare at you blankly, purely, peacefully, lifelessly.
All what’s left is the killing silence of a blank paper.



Everything happens for a reason is something you come to believe in more and more by the day. Things happen, events, and people cross your path. 

It all happens for a reason, but what if:
What if you were leaving a trait behind?
What if your acts were for an uncovered reason?
What if you were keeping a message for the future to uncover?
What if your life was a mystery to be solved after a generation?
What if you were leaving clues behind for the mystery to be solved?
The question is; did you know you were doing so? Or was it all based on coincidences?
Was it planned?
Was it spontaneous?
Were you being you?
Were you leaving a hidden message?



Clue by:Nour Al-amine/ Photo by: Sahar Al-amine



Unmasked by: Nour Al-amine/ Photo by: Ghida El-Souki

We read books, watch movies, dig into myths and fantasies, imagine what kind of person this imaginary character would be in real life. When everything sounds like an illusion and then this big lie, big confusion, this thing called reality shocks you hard and stronger every time.



Reality is cruel, crueller than the books, the characters we read about in books are evil in reality. This evil that keeps interfering in everything and makes your life a true hell is for real, dressed nicely though, looks nice as well. In books the evil characters are dressed up to look bad, in real life the evil ones are pretty from the outside but their ugliness remains in their hearts, in their ugly sick minds, in their smiles, and just a single look reveals their real selves.

The noble ones are there too, fighting silently against the cruelty, facing the masked evils with silence, with good deeds, as if the innocence, and kindness can change anything.

With every new chapter in reality, the masked ones dominate more and more, evilness arouse, and the noble ones are pushed to the shadows. In the shadows of the evil, in the corners of cruelty and ugliness of the world.

Reality pushes you to become a minor character in the grand novel of the world. You are there fighting not to become one of the masked. You are fighting to stay you. You are fighting to change what can’t be changed anymore.

You are a minor character in the novel of the world, but you will be the hero of your own story. You will always be the one unmasked.


Footsteps arising through the dark little alleys, rising above the heartbeats sound, above the breaths noises. Getting higher and higher as the place narrows over your tiny body, and the darkness blocks your whole vision. One at a time you are getting smaller, weaker, and more vulnerable than ever.
You’re shrinking in the dark, silenced under the world’s craziness, imprisoned within your own mind, embracing your thoughts away, flying between the words, and escaping reality. Escaping from the footsteps, from the darkness of the world, escaping to yourself, escaping away, and reflecting into yourself.

Within alone, but never lonely, within comes the truth, the reality, and the true hidden self. When reality keeps on hitting you in the face, when the darkness overwhelms, when you no longer fit in, when being you is the problem, Run!

Run into yourself, embrace your thoughts, love the self you are, run before you get poisoned by the ugliness of the world. Run but never change and never doubt who you are. 

The darkness is against you because you’re never accepting to become the oblivion. You never followed the crowd; so why now do?

Always be you ….


Shadowing of the moonlight over the water

Waves crushing the rocks

Feet down in the sand

Step by step

The water rising above

Deeper and deeper

Losing your breath

Salt in the eyes

Silence of the world

You and the sea

Sinking deeper in the water

Sinking deeper in the darkness

Sinking deeper in the darkness of the world




In the darkness of the night, there is always the moonlight.



Sinking by: Nour Al-Amine/ Photo by: Shadi A. Karam

Life through a Mirror

Staring in the mirror, a reflection of a suit and tie, an elegant dress, or jeans and shirt with faded faces barely shown. Faded, dead as if life had run away from it.

Staring into the eyes, the dull face, the stiffened face with no features. The curves drawn by the smile around the lips haven’t been drawn for a while now.

Faces as cold as death with shiny eyes that hide a story. A story that has been buried deep down. Another day in a different place with the same dull faces and only the eyes can assure the existence of this creature. Reflection of the outfit of the day in the mirror; nothing else matter.

Light reflected in the eyes, which sparkle curiously in the mirror. Odd images covered with dust present itself in the mirror. The images of the hidden story; staring back in it the person’s face, taking him back in time to the places, faces, and  forgotten moments.

Memories reflected in the mirror. Images jumping one after the other in the mirror. Images of life. Faces that no longer exist in one’s life. Left behind places and moments. Reality hits you in the face.

How weird time had passed? When did one become only a reflection in the mirror of an outfit.

One would think “Am I hallucinating?” “What’s up with me today?”. Don’t fearfully smash the mirror and walk away. Look into the mirror deep into your eyes. Let that feeling of nostalgia overwhelms you for a moment. Choose to live rather than being just a reflection. Never be afraid of the mirror.

Never be afraid of your own reflection. Face your fears. Admit your mistakes. Be you and not just a reflection.


Life through a Mirror by: Nour Al-amine /  Photo by: Shadi A. Karam



Decorating the Sorrow

Lights & colors, joy & love, decorations sparkling from outside to cover the darkness, the sorrow, the pain, the suffer of forced pale smiles covered with colors. Colors which are fading with every striking light and every forward step.

The way it all comes to be perceived, to be coming into something; something realistic, near the common sense of pure happiness. It fades with every step toward the exotic joy and lights, as if it is meant to lose something of its originality in the process. As if the power of the glow, the sense of it all is meant to be lost, meant to be colorless, lifeless, and pale.

As if carrying all the colors with you is impossible, as if it is the price you pay, the price to be able to move forward, to be where you are and who you are, and how you come to be.

As if being black and white is what it takes to get to the place you aim, to be at.

You stand long, colorless, hallow from inside, empty, deadly walking, heavily breathing, it somehow hurts when you smile as a hard-tough exercise, an effortful job, something you hardly do, as if it is not that easy and simple, as if the burdens of the universe are thrown on your shoulders.

Dusty issues accumulating from within until you can no longer breathe, until you can only feel the pain arousing in your chest, oxygen escaping from every cell inside of you, and your eyes can barely open.

You end-up as a colorless image, messily colored, as if a child had drawn and colored you messily, a massive huge mess, a colorless useless image messily colored. Badly colored and hideously decorated to hide the true darkness from within between somehow the true joy out there.


​Strange looking faces, voices that makes no sense to you, cold, abounded, leftovers of what once was great, a left behind place for the silence of the wind and the reflections of the shadows.

Emptiness that kills the worries, brings calamity for a busy mind, awakens a dormant soul, a peace driven to the body out of the place’s beauty.
A sight ahead into the wild, above the mountains,deep in the forest, a forgotten soul is left to the struggling of the cold and the echoes of the wild.
A simple smile, between the coldest of the white, is enough to warm up the spirit within while the  body is forgotten to the struggle of the cold.
Who cares for the cold,  when the eyes are satisfied, the silence overwhelms you with peace, and the lips are smiling warmly. 

So-called Lucky

As teens living outside the city, Beirut, represented for us the chance of change, and for some it was the freedom, and the land of dreams come true. Our short visits were to escape the routine life and enjoy the smallest things as a featured movie premiere, shopping, and the small adventures. The people of the city seemed to be the happiest on earth for us. By the time we had to attend university, those who moved to Beirut were called the lucky ones.  They were So-called Lucky, for having the chance of moving to the city with the baggage of dreams and ambitions, which will soon become real.


The reality though hits you in the face, the dream city is in fact the dream destroyer, the people of the city are afraid to get out and face the sun. Heads down they move, their daily habits are robotic wise, and their nightlife isn’t but a way to hide their misery, and breakdowns. This city embraces the little of its people and ignores the rest.

Looking back at younger versions of you, the ones of big dreams, the ones with highly ambitions, and all you see is a bunch of dreams leftovers. The lucky ones are no longer here they left to a city where they can feel alive again. The ones here are living a life of an adventure, surprises are an every day event, working towards a dream, running and running until it becomes part of them. Where happy news are surprising, and success will come after you’re too exhausted to enjoy it; where the taste of it is no longer meaningful.

Beirut bewitches you into loving it, loving every part of this clumsy stupid city, the city of contradictions, the city of magic, ugliness, and beauty. It reflects on you it’s useless past and unconcealed problems, it crushes you and brings you to life everyday with every step.

The old version of you, the dreamful, ambitious person, the one that wanted to change everything , to step over any obstacle, and go beyond the negativity of the daily life, is now just an image and a reflection of this city. You are a reflection of its old buildings, which are fighting everyday to keep on breathing, a reflection of its dark pathways and scary alleys. Only on good days you feel the belonging to the beauty of this capital city.

You now are one of this city’s faces, one of the people moving around with a smile, and burying in the truth of this clumsy, stupid, crazy, enchanted city. This city is clumsy indeed; nothing in it is but a big mess and bunch of things and nothing.