the pictures were taken on a phone, so they're kind of shitty quality. but deal.
and as i said before i am a writer, and i thought i'd share one of my most recent works..
i'm half arabic and hald german, for a little clarity. comments on the writing would be nice, even if you just want to tell me how horrible it is.
i sat back, cleared my throat
and stared at my reflection in my cofee
we were sitting in the back
of a homegrown cafe.
in my dying hometown
i was learning arabic
from an ancient, dusty persian lady
who spoke just a little more of the language
than i did.
i'm not sure why i kept
by the fourth lesson she quit charging me.
maybe its the way she talked
how she talked
maybe it was an act of pure desperation
(my eyes fell to my reflection in my coffee.
black coffee never pleased my tounge,
and now my eyes despised it.)
mid-life crisis at the age of fourteen.
your heritage is what you become
when you have nothing left.
i come from genocide and terrorism.
she asked me...
who i admired more
hitler or hussein.