Consumption

For the past couple of years I’ve had developed this weird habit of collecting receipts. It is not that I had planned it, it just happened like this. You know how you find a pile of receipts gathered in your wallet or purse? Well, I just happened to reposition those into a drawer of mine until it became a habit.

I always knew subconsciously that I would do some kind of art project with it I just didn’t know what.

In our “Globalization and Global culture” class we took a novel called “The Committee” by an Egyptian writer called Sun’Allah Ibrahim. We immediately fell in love with the story. It is so powerful in an agonizing way. His kafkaesque style is very grabbling and mind blowing.

With no spoilers here: the story speaks about a globalized arab world in which it is controlled by a force to consume. The story specifically strikes you by it very closing line:

Then I lifted my wounded arm to my mouth and began to consume myself

In class we have argued the translation of the world “Akalt” into consume. Where the translation we’ve read says “consume” another translation says “eat”. My doctor said that “eat” makes more sense but I have arguably made my statement that “consume” is more powerful and meaningful. When one consume it ticks every sense of disposing, and usually it ends with waste of the act consume. But that is only my opinion you can always beg to differ with your opinion.

With that amazing class we came, my friends and I, to discuss my collection of receipts and what kind of art project should I do with them. They suggested that I should connect it to “The Committee”. I loved the idea that I wanted to apply it to the closing line of the book.

Since then I left the idea on the shelf. Until one day I listened to Bastille’s “Pompeii” song and I thought it had so much relevance to the idea. Especially with the verses:

And the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love

With that I got enthusiastic and decided to do it right away.

With that I might as well say: Enjoy the video!

-Esperanza Writes

P.S: Excuse my pajamas :p :’D

[Past Post] Blue Rose

I’ve been having trouble figuring out what to write. So this is a past post called “Blue Rose”, from my ex-blog, expressing the reason why blue rose is my favorite flower and why do I feel that why about it. Until I regain my words I’ll leave you to this. Enjoy:

A delicate sign to hope trembling and crumbling, trying her best to make something out of herself. She looked up and reached out to this world thinking would she rather be like everybody else? or Would she show herself no matter how different she is, no matter what made her this way?
She was identified as not being real genetically changed and made to this… but she had to prove herself.. Prove herself right that she existed!!
She was thrown in a snowy windy day on the ground waiting, anticipating for a life saver.. and there a blue rose as lonely, as lost as her… she picked her up, inhaled a deep soothing breath, dropped to her knees and looked up…. and the soft lyrics of a song came along:

Blue as the crying sky
With no thorn, AND no THISTLE
Only AN open face
Staring at the waking world
Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine

Her arms stretch wide
To receive a life
And her ROOTS go deep into the BLACK EARTH for strength
And she blooms and

Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine

She blooms while the people sleep
Only the TRAVELERS SEE HER
To those who RISE with the noon day Sun
She is a closed mystery

AND Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
OH, Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Lost in a tangle of vine
Lost in a tangle of vine*


The girl walked with the blue rose clutched between her hands…she whispered ” I’ll not hide anymore” She decided not to hide anymore, no more for being lost and show her beauty no matter what is being told or said about her… She will stand whether was it out or in as long as she becomes herself….
She is a Blue Rose … She is a rose that is been made… and yet she’ll bloom to this life.. and not give up.. strong and independent… A Blue Rose she is.
I’d like to thank MJ-Al-Feeli  for shooting this photo exclusively for this post.
* “Blue Rose”, Lizz Wright.
-Esperanza Writes

Unreal

As I drove down the highway,

Reality clashed it senses and dissolved into the unreal,

Everything around seemed false, fake, and fugitive.

I was afraid that the unreal that I felt is real,

What if the real is unreal and the unreal is real?

I drove faster and I became afraid of the indistinguishably I stored,

If I drove with this shortage of knowledge I might crash.

If I crash and it’s real I’ll be gone,

But what if this is unreal?

I grew dizzy… “think, me, think!!” I commended.

But everything is unreal, I’m just … cold.

Then I arrived, snapping into reality..

I broke a puddle of sweat,

I could no longer stand still and collapsed,

because everything was … real.

Exhaustion has overwhelmed me.

Today I am alive, but what about the next time,

When I mix between unreal and real?

And I doze off into a deep sleep.

-Esperanza Writes

I Want

I want you to hear me even when I’m not talking.

To hear every whisper every word untold

To feel the vibration when it is not felt

Because you, my dear, care

I want you to know that I long to talk to you

Without any words said, because you know

I want to be near, so near

even though sometimes the real distance is far

I want a single of everything to mean a lot,

a single glance, a single touch, a single thought

All means more, more and more.

I want, and what a selfish thing to say, you.

-Esperanza Writes

Today is All I See

Today all cars I see are white;

No other color, no other brand, no other design.

Today all shirts I see are red;

No other color, no other shade, no other style.

Today all skin I see is moderate brown;

No other color, no other flesh, no other tone.

My vision is blurred but those colors.

And so is my depth is colorless black.

Please, I beg bring me my colors back.

The feeling is agonizing and there is really no one to blame.

My heart beats fast, my throat dries up and everything on flame.

And I realize I’m only a onelet… just a onelet.

There is nothing to put down the flame.

Today out of all days is not the same,

My vision is blurred but those colors.

-Esperanza Writes

[Past Post] The Path that Never Ends

Come closer and hold me tight against you..
Walk with me and show me a beautiful path..
A path where obstacles exist but you will always point it out to me… help me through it..
And no matter how we look ragged and old we will still be close together..
No matter .. No matter how maybe one day I would face sickness you will be there for me .. holding my hand and never letting go..
Assuring me that everything will be alright…
And when that path comes to an end.. you bring a shovel to dig another path.. so that our path becomes that path that never ends..

-Esperanza Writes

تكلمت… بصمت [Past Post]


نظرتُ في عينيها
تبدو وكأنـَّها ثـُقِـلـَـتْ ….همومًا
سوادُ الليل ِ يختزلُ تلكَ العينين

وكأنها تحكي أيّامًا مضَتْ،
عبّرَتْ عن ماضي كيانِـهـا بتلكَ …النظرةِ
و بدا الأمرُ وكأنها

تكلـَّمتْ.. بصمتْ
-Esperanza Writes