Tuesday, 17 April 2007


Every time he won..he lost soon after, and every time he lost, the colorful Mosaic called his life became more fragile, as it became more detailed. The most beautiful objects in the world are the most fragile, his sadness over Cordoba, over her, over his lost identity..was complimented by the loss of a sudden friendship, sudden in its creation, sudden in its deep effect, and sudden in its loss.

Tangier was now close, and our friend could tell that his awaited liberation was near, he was missing her..he was missing the details of her face, she was Cordoba, and Cordoba was her, his quest for her..for the reconquest of his subsequent defeats was the redemption of all his past sins, he was a deep believer in the sacred geometry of chance, chance was by which he had met her, chance was the driver of his gain, his loss, and the force that got him to set on this journey.

The sea wind was carrying a familiar scent, a scent he grew up smelling, the orange orchards of distant villages laying beside the sea were the first signs of his nearness to home, nearness to her, those orange orchards carried ripe jewels, he could almost see them shining in the distance with their teasing color, he could tell...that from now on..home was within his grasp, she was home, the streets of Cordoba where she walked were the veins in his body, and the streams running through its valleys were his blood.

The ship lowered anchor as the sun was setting in the western sky, and north of here was Andalusia..a fresh breathe of northern air away. He walked the roads of Tangier, the markets were closing for the day and merchants were gathering their goods and heading home, the scent of eastern spices mixed with the smell of Andalusian jasmin, Tangier was the younger sister of Cordoba, they both have the same eyes, the same smile, and the same noble lineage, people spoke almost the same way as they did in Cordoba, speech sounded like music, distinct to the opposite banks of Gibraltar, that rock stood there..proud like a noble Andalusian woman, announcing the nearness of beauty, defending it from prying foreign eyes, it was the veil on Andalusia's face, behind it was the face of Arabia..Iberia, united in sound, united in blood, that defending veil on the face of Andalusia was staring at him from the short distance between them, and as he stood on the beach..his feet were being washed by waves coming from Gibraltar..even the sea knew that this was a son longing for his mother, those waves touched his feet gently..they were the fingertips of Andalusia, and she was embracing him privately..away from all humanity.


  1. I read it a couple of times and in each time, my mind would take a similar road, so much like his..that take me home..

    When I see Beirut from an airplane window with "its teasing colors...", and "I can tell that from now on..home is within my grasp.." I become so much like him..
    I think he is where he should be..

    I like this story because we can connect with him, with his emotions and he becomes one of us..

    Since you have written something this beautiful خلص مسامح عالغيبة الطويلة..and again, welcome back :)

  2. Long time Ammar, I feel like reading a new post for you like the ones you used to write.. about silence, passion, faith and beauty! :$ I used to love those! :$

  3. wow!
    I had such a lovely time reading through your blog....
    nice pics as well...

    p/s: m really looking forward for my trip to andalusia & madrid next year.. insyaAllah..

  4. Noura,
    the funny part about this story is that it wasn't planned, it still isn't planned, and I don't think it will be! I just let it take me wherever it wants!

    Good Morning Tamara!

    All is in its time..patience patience!

    Drama Diva,
    Thanks..say hi to Cordoba for me..and if u see him, tell him I said wussup!

  5. Hi Ammar, It's been a really long time.
    First of all:
    proud like a noble Andalusian woman, announcing the nearness of beauty, defending it from prying foreign eyes, it was the veil on Andalusia's face.
    You are proving that you are captured by Eve, only she is an Arabian Eve no doubt.
    Second: Did you read the Alchemist by Paulo Coelho? You sould if you did not.I'm reading it now, and when i read your post i felt that I was reading a page in the Alchemist. It's really good Ammar.

  6. I enjoyed reading about Tangier. Tangier is beautiful, combining many of the best attributes of other Moroccan cities: it has the rolling hills of Fez, which give most houses stunning views; it has the blue and white color palate of Essaouira, in addition to the Ocean and Sea; and it has a small but interesting medina. In addition, it has a much more varied architecture, with a variety of European influences.