Tag Archives: writing&blogging


Can you see the reflection of the lights at dusk, the beauty and magic of the moment?

Can you feel the chilly breeze?

Can you see the whiteness of the snow and the purity of the scene ?

Can you hear the secrets of the ocean?

Can you feel the laughter and joy of a toddler?


Don’t you hear the scary silence of the night after…

Don’t you feel the coldness of the homeless bodies…

Don’t you see the dirt hidden underneath…

Don’t you hear the dying drowning screaming voices in the ocean…

Don’t you see the mourning and loss in the world…

There are two faces for everything, you can’t take one face of the coin, you can’t choose one side of the story.

With every beginning there’s an end.

With every death there is a rebirth.

Rainbows appear in the harshest storms.

There are no eternal sunshines.

There is no eternal suffer.

It’s not always easy.

It’s not always harsh.

It’s not always the beginning of a story, some ends need to be written for new beginnings to take place.

But… @_mylightspirit_

A Call Before Dawn

Before dawn, the world is quiet, darkness, empty streets, the light of thunder striking through the window and breaking the silence of the night. Windows rattling, wind screaming through the cracks, the world is shaking, pairs of eyes sparkle in the darkness of the room, in wonder, in terror, gazing at the room dancing on the sound of thunder, the bed shaking on the same rhythm… seconds it is, it took just seconds for some eyes to be closed once and for all, and others to stay wide awake in waiting…

It took seconds to change everything, just like a scratch of a writer’s pen, or the ripping of a paper, an act of removing a whole chapter from the story and ending roles of characters just like this. Some are gone but the ink of the scratch leaves mark on the papers and the pieces of the papers ripped are still visible… the remaining eyes will still gaze in terror; some stories will always have a missing chapter. 

Is it a message from God? Is Mother Nature angry at us? Is it just a normal geological phenomenon? Whatever the answer is, the fact that the events of the story changed dramatically is the only actual truth. The closed eyes felt the terror for seconds and are gone, but the rest of the world is still gazing since the late hours of night before dawn…

Seconds serve as a reminder on how insignificant a human being is, how useless, helpless, and powerless one can be?! It is seconds that filled some hearts with fear and made them rush in terror filling the empty streets. It is seconds that fill some hearts with peace as they wait, waiting to see if that’s the end of the story or the end of another chapter…

Too much pain in this world, too much suffering, too much loss … and it’s one call in the darkness of the night that changes it all…

Bench of Strangers

Three hours break between sessions and a book to read means that she will have to find me a seat in the library. Although, it was cold just the idea of locking herself in a closed place for three hours sounded unbearable. 

After a short walk, she found herself at Campo Santa Margherita. She looked around for an empty place and under one of the trees she took a seat on an empty bench, fastened her scarf and jacket, chose a suitable music for reading and got her book out. She had the bench for herself for a while, as she enjoyed both the book and the view. She saw people passing by. There was the old woman dragging her shopping cart careless about the surrounding that seems to be boring usual view for her, followed by a couple astonished by every single thing they see around, fetching their camera trying to capture every sight, and there is a mother on the other side running after her son. Over there a bit further, the fish market stands out and people were gathered around to buy the best of it, and on the other benches people sat  enjoying their fresh hot pizza slices. The Campo was busy, where all the places and restaurants tables out were full with people. 

She put her  head down focusing on reading the book, and in a few moments, she felt the  presence another person filling the end of the bench. She took a glimpse of the figure  it was an old man with his newspaper. For a while, he sat there reading his newspaper after which he packed his stuff and left again leaving the bench for her. A girl then joined and took the old man’s place, she set out  several Tupperware and placed it in the middle of the bench between them and kept it untouched. She sat there nervously looking around at the alley way behind the corner in expectation, fetching her phone checking it and putting it back, hushing the pigeons away and scanning the other girl with the book accusative as if she so self-absorbed, it was almost an hour when she gave up on the wait, packed her untouched food and walked away. She  felt for that stranger and for her unfortunate luck as she saw her walk away sadly.

It was then that two guys came to share the bench with her. The smell of the pasta that they were eating filled the place. Their loud voices overcame her music and she could hear  their conversation talking over the lyrics. One shared his struggles in Venice as a foreigner while the other told him about his lousy date the other night. She couldn’t concentrate anymore on reading so she put  her book back in the bag and  walked away keeping her seat for another stranger!

On this same bench, a bunch of strangers sat with their own stories in a city of culture and history, that always made them feel as if all that is just a fictional story.

Campo Sanata Margherita – Venice -Italy/ photo by : Husein Djulovic
Campo Sanata Margherita – Venice -Italy/ photo by : Husein Djulovic

Lights and Flowers

Crowded streets, full of cars the fancy and the regular ones wandering the streets into different destinations, heading to restaurants, theaters, cafe, home or probably heading to a friend’s house.  Where ever it is going, its’ passengers are seeking for rest and joy after a long working day.

There he is resting his back on the traffic light, gazing at its lights switching from green to orange to red. When the orange one comes he stands up hugging a bunch of flowers, ready to move and as fast as the red light appears he mingles between the cars;  charming the passengers one time, praying for them the other as he offers his flowers. Some just close the windows in his face, others curse him to go away and few are those who buy his flowers.images

Just like any other  day, he is racing  the time, and moving along with the light and escaping from death every minute as rolling cars pass by him. Behind the windows of the cars he sees all kinds of people the greedy, the kind, the sweet, the evil, the miserable, the tired  and the depressed; all waiting for the green light to move on. The streets are getting quiet; the sidewalks are getting empty with lighting bulbs twinkling softly, and he still has a bunch of flowers to sell, it seems that he won’t be calling the day off any soon.

He sits back in his spot imaging how does it feel to be in a fancy car, wearing elegant clothes, going to beautiful places and eating delicious food. He was taken by his innocent dreams and he forgets all about the lights and the flowers. When a voice comes from behind: “hey sleepy! Get back to work”, he opens his eyes to see his partner looking really happy that he couldn’t help it but ask “why are you this happy?!”,   “you won’t believe it pal, it is God’s mercy, there is this lady, she said I look like her brother so she gave me some extra money”, he says it with joy as his eyes sparkles and he jumps away holding that extra paper money tightly in his hand “I will be in the near street, meet me there when you finish, we’ll go home together”.

His friend’s happiness brought him back to real life, they don’t deserve a wealthy life, and they should be satisfied by the few extra nickels they get from time to time, he stands up and gets back to work.

By the time he sells all his flowers, it was early in the morning; he drags himself to go find his friend. He walks and walks, tired and sleepy, he calls over his name but there was no answer, he thinks maybe he’s home already. With this thought he changes his direction heading home, when he glimpses him sleeping by the corner of the street.

He approaches, stands right above his tiny body, talks to him but he doesn’t respond, he kneels down, shakes his body with his small hands, but he never wakes up, his body as cold as an ice and that paper money still embraced by his small dirty fingers as he hugged a bunch of flowers in the other hand.

The eight years old boy sits there mourning his friend, recalling how happy he was just few hours ago, wondering who will accompany him in his daily journey  across the city’s streets from now on,as kids their age get up in time for school.

He is coming today!

Every morning, she prepares the coffee, places two cups on the tray and brings it out to the balcony. Afterwards, she gets dressed with one of her vintage beautiful dresses, shiny heals and leather bag  and heads  towards the markets with a lovely smile on her face as she says to every person she sees “My son is coming home today”. She strolls around the shops as if she is searching for something specific until she reaches a closed shop.  She stares with disappointment turn around and walks back home.

On her way back, she ran into her friend who asked “What’s wrong?”  She looked at her with sadness featuring her old face “buttons! I need buttons for the sweater I knit for my son; I can’t give it to him without buttons”. She said that leaving her friend behind and marched ahead talking to herself, cursing that she’s late because her husband is waiting for her and counting the foods she needs to prepare before the biggest arrival.

At home you can see her through the windows, moving around the kitchen, with her dog sleeping on the rug, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, preparing the dining table, placing the fancy tableware for the special occasion, when everything is set, she changes for a better dress, sprays perfume, stares at herself in the mirror as she can sense the excitement in her eyes.  She sits on the top of the table waiting, the sun disappears, she could hear noises of her neighbors getting back from work, night falls, it is all silent and she is still waiting, in the dark alone with her shadow and her dog; her only friend.Woman-Waiting-by-Will-Collier

Poor old widow has never lost hope, her husband died of misery and she still gets up every morning, heads to the mall that she thinks is the same old bazaar, searches for places that no longer exist and for people whom left long ago. She waits for her son to return from a war that no longer occurs…

Her daily feasts end up feeding hungry families as everyday she gets up, she hopes and she waits …

A Struggling Tornado

Hand s apart, your  legs dancing on the rhythm  of the air, feeling the wind through your hair and striking your face gently, flying freely, like a free-falling leaf dancing in the wind.

At once you feel wrapped, surrounded by the wind, as if your internal struggle is subjected into the outside; you’ve been caught by a tornado. There you are cycling around yourself inside it, as it moves dragging all what comes on its way from good and bad, filling the inside of the tornado.tornado_to_oz_by_karla_chan-d4qpnzs

You’re wrapped between images of past faces, echoes of voices and flashbacks to far away moments.

The tornado is destroying the path ahead, scattering it into pieces, crushing it and pitching its pieces as far as possible.

It keeps you wondering about your own faith, what would it be! Will you be dragged back to the past, will you be thrown into the future, or will you be crushed and doomed into pieces!

For now try to enjoy the ride, be part of the struggling tornado, the tornado was for sure unleashed for a reason.  Maybe you just don’t belong in your present time and maybe it might be taking you to another dimension.

A dimension where you can fly freely, where you aspire and acquire, where you dream and do, where the flower of your hard work finally flourish, where the sun will rise, and where even the darkest nights are lighten up with a shiny moon and twinkling stars.

Keep in mind that after each tornado, you can start again; you can stand on the broken pieces and just start again from scratch.


Searching for the moon on a dark night, no sight of it, only darkness is mastering the quiet night…

Not even a single star had the courage to show up…download

What have happened?!…darkness…Silence…fears…defeat…deserted places waiting for a single star to shine upon…

Hidden faces in the shade behind the windows wishing for a single star…

Reflections of dark inside and out…

Will there be a sight of a star before it is too late?!….

Will the light arouse on the darkness?!…

Will the day come to uncover it all?! Will it clear the road upon?!…

Will the shaded faces have the courage to face the light?! Will it go out the windows?! Will it bright up?!

Will the time come… when stars twinkle in the sky? When the moon chiefs the center of the sky and glow upon the shaded faces? Will the faces speak up and scatter the silence?

Or will it always be dark with shaded coward faces hidden behind the windows…?


As I sat in the crowded bus on my way home, a small kid about 7 to 8 years old stopped the bus and hopped in. I looked at him wearing his school uniform,  carrying a backpack which is absolutely bigger and heavier than his tiny body. He sat by the window staring out as if he is dreaming of tomorrow while counting the minutes to reach home, after a busy school day.images (1) As I sat quietly in that crowded bus with the little boy just right behind me, flashbacks came into my sight to the time when I was at the same age as his,on a sunny day as this day.I remember how on sunny days my brother and I used to walk up the hill after school to wait for mom and avoid the traffic. I remember each sunny day as a special one on its own, how we used to race each other on the way up one day and haste ourselves up side by side the other.

For few minutes I felt like that little girl again, holding tight to my elder brother’s hand as he walked me to class. Again, I was that little redhead standing by the fence looking up for my brother, the feeling of joy came to me again as when I used to catch a glance of him far away in the playground.

When suddenly a car’s honk woke me up, I am back in the bus tired and sleepy waiting to get out of the traffic as soon as possible. As I wondered did time really passed? When did I get this serious? What happened to my childhood classmates? Where this life did threw them? Did they change? How do they look like now? Even I have become a different person myself and far away from that little girl.

It is weird how I can’t help but imagine my classmates as they were little boys and girls. As if I am the only one who grew up while they are still stuck in the old dusty pages as naughty boys and girls …

I keep on wondering when did I reach this stage of my life, did I really pass through all this or is it just another weird dream?!


A Crazy Wish

10507994_277497782435664_336475182_aAs humans we care so much about details, even the smallest ones. So when it comes to stories, we focus on every tiny thing that helps us in creating the image in our minds.

When we are listening to our grandparent’s stories or even to our parent’s ones; we ask them about every single detail. Details help us figure out what was going on, but there will always be something missing and shaded.

Stories from our decade and we can’t imagine it, so what about stories that took place hundreds and thousands of years ago! The stories we hear from that time seem unreal and so far away from our logical thinking, we get lost between the events, details, time and place.

From that moment of lost came a crazy wish; a wish to spend a day in every different decade. Imagine if you can witness great events that happened in history, if you can get to know world’s greatest mysteries and to meet the best people of the world.

tumblr_static_tumblr_static_2ryyl2kvf54wo48s8skkswggg_640A crazy wish that will help you reveal world’s secrets, unlock signals and you will get to know great people who history admires or was unfair with. This crazy tour will lead you to meet unknown people who had a great role in history, but they were not mentioned in your history book.

A weird world, where every society destroys the first and builds a new one, which in turn will be destroyed by another. A day will come where our world will be just a chapter in the history book and people would be wandering about our secrets and how did we manage to live in such a world?!

The same incomplete ending is written for different stories ….let your imagination on and search for the ending for the incomplete shaded story you heard.


We are all born to be free, to take the lead and walk ahead, powerfully and liberally. Some believe that trapping themselves and waiting for the rescue is easier than fighting for life.

They choose to lock themselves, to be imprisoned, silent and weak. They decide it is easier to hide in the dark and wait for the change, for the hero to come and save them. They believe   help must come to them someday; someday somebody will come to disturb the creepy silence, break all the obstacles and give them the freedom they deserve!

Gullible and humble are those who believe that if they choose to be caged and scrawny are going to be rescued at some point.  The weak are always used and never rescued.

A freely, strong, and a leading person would never rescue someone to share freedom with him. The weak ones are the tools for the strong to reach a higher place; they loan a hand down to the weak to complete their image as considerate ones, but it is never for real. A free person makes you believe that you only deserve a limited portion of freedom and you’re destined to live such a life.

Freedom is not a reward; it is not something to be gifted to you. You either choose to be a free person or an imprisoned one.

From its beginning, life is based on freedom; a lot have died in their fight for freedom, freedom of land, of thought, of life….they all died for a cause they believed in. Looking back you will see that no one was gifted his/her freedom …they fought for it.

Choose to be strong, free, use your power and independence…and never choose to be the one who needs to be rescued!