He never understood her choice of staying, of not leaving when there was still time to do so, when there were still flights available to flee, when things were not yet so rotten. When things were not lost, irreparably.
Unconceivable to prefer to stay, even prior to the airstrikes.
The lack of water, the moving around the house with candles and reading with a small lamp till the batteries were totally consumed.
The money always too little and volatile, the house deciding to fall apart always on the third week of the month when there were no more funds to fix.
The headaches due to the altitude, the lack of hygiene in public places, the infections, the loud neighbours, the celebrations with the soundtrack of the Kalashnikovs.
The long days, the jumpy internet, the ‘Inshallah’ said to profusion.
He did not pay attention, always busy complaining, not understanding.
He did not pay attention.
To the walls speaking, to the millennial wisdom which will constantly find its way.
picture: Suzana Zuhayri