some late nights propel you to miss your tribe.
1 am, wide awake, missing a lot of things, a lot of places, a lot of faces, a lot of feelings. Looking at the candle and watching it dance slowly to the wind’s rhythm, I am thinking of Beirut tonight.
There’s always something about Arabic nights, or something about Beirut. I can imagine myself walking on the dimly lit streets, enjoying the moon bask and all its glory, and from far away I can hear this soft Oud playing.
Or it could be an alternative scene with a girl friend, I admire her hijab in the moonlight while she admires the elaborate henna I got.
Dreams, dreams, always dreams. I am wide awake but eternally dreaming.