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Louis Yako Biography

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“[Silent Messages] I’ve lost track of all the times I have passed by married couples or lovers Dinning at fancy upscale restaurants in foreign cities When the woman sitting across the table from her lover Gives me that quick look Conveying in a painful silence That she no longer loves him, That she wishes she were elsewhere… And each time, I respond with an equally silent look: Why are you there? Why don’t you turn this dinner table of triviality on him, And on everything that happened and is happening And just walk away? [Original poem published in Arabic on November 8, 2022 at ahewar.org]”

“I always had a problem with the worn-out saying ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’ The saying is not only harsh, but it lacks depth. It does not consider that many people become poor precisely because of making courageous choices for which they pay a high price—poverty. Indeed, many people are not poor but impoverished precisely because they refuse to play the game and participate in the unjust and unhealthy system we have in place. The point is not about being able or unable to choose. It is about what kind of choices one makes.”

“Beware of Strangers As children, they teach us To beware of strangers, To refrain from approaching them. As we grow older we learn That no one is stranger than those We thought we’d known all our lives. As we grow older we learn That a stranger may carry more empathy, And may understand us more deeply. Even feelings of affection from a stranger May be more sincere. And so I ask: can humanity and the strangeness be synonymous? Could we say: I am a stranger; therefore I am? Can we truly feel alive Without strange things Strange encounters without strangers reminding us that our hearts and minds are still beating? They teach us to avoid strangers, And life teaches us that human awareness can only be borne out Of the dagger of strangeness… That life is tasteless When we don’t mix it with strangers… That familiarity is opposed to life! And thus, I loudly declare: A stranger I was born. A stranger I wish to remain! And I ask that you issue my death certificate The day I become familiar. [Original poem published in Arabic on October 29 at ahewar.org]”

“Losers" Losers are closer to my heart, because they were right... Because integrity doesn’t win as depicted in superficial Hollywood movies... Integrity always loses, for many are those who fear those who sell, and those whose interests don’t align with its harsh conditions… I love losers because they were right... I, too, who once bet on humanity, I lost! [Original poem published in Arabic on December 12, at ahewar.org]”

“Death by Starvation or Boredom” Many toil for scraps and cheap wages, surviving one fragile breath at a time— just one more breath... While others, bloated with excess, labor only to escape boredom, pretending they’re saving a world drowning in the greed they created, and the power they refuse to let go. The first walks a tightrope between breath and hunger. The second, cushioned by comfort, drifts closer to spiritual starvation, their soul numbed by excess. And here lies the cruel symmetry— fate, with its blunt hands, levels the field by offering death either way: starvation... or boredom. But the greatest tragedy belongs to those who die of both.”

“Taxi Driver” There’s a strange kind of liberation in being just a taxi driver— the freedom tucked inside that word: just. Because you’re just a driver, no one truly sees you. Yet you see it all— the absurdities, the shallows, the beauty, sorrow, joy, heartbreak—passengers unknowingly exposed. They grant you a diluted respect, sometimes half-fake, sometimes not at all— because you’re just a taxi driver. But they leave you be. No one's scheming to steal your seat. They want you in that seat. They ride with you because, for now, it’s a seat they don’t desire. Still, like all fleeting liberations, this too carries disappointment— a bittersweet sting. You realize the only reason they leave you alone is because you've escaped into a seat they never wanted in the first place. And that hurts.”

“The Triumph of Goodness" If only the reality was like cartoons like teenager books and stories or like the countless movies and soap operas produced specially for the naïve in which goodness triumphs at the end… Anyone who follows the reality of the world closely and deeply, shall find that the triumph of goodness is nothing but a myth a trick created by the evildoers themselves to trick us into thinking that goodness, honesty, and virtues win in the end… The world turns upside down when we discover that all these good and well-selected virtues are nothing but myths fabricated by the vicious and the evil ones to permanently maintain their control over the naïve who believe that goodness triumphs just like at the end of movies… [Original poem published in Arabic on February 26, 2024 at ahewar.org]”

“[Death by Starvation or Boredom] Many are those who work For cheap wages Only to barely survive One breath at a time… Just one more breath… And others who have so much Yet work simply to kill boredom Only to feel that they are saving A world that is drowning Because of their greed And their love for power and wealth… The first one remains one step or less Closer to dying of starvation; While the second one -who provides the wages of the first one- Remain one step or less closer to dying of boredom… And here lies the irony! It’s as if fate insists on breaking All human barriers To force everyone to choose Between death by starvation or boredom… And owe to those who die of both… [Original poem published in Arabic by ahewar.org on January 28, 2023]”

“There is a huge shift to rewiring people from working class families to pursue education that is cheap, but profitable for corporations and corporatized educational institutions, and that is just enough for them to be trained as malleable workers at the service of the ruling class and their needs. We are in a country in which the few rich and privileged get quality education, while everyone else gets cheap training and acquire mediocre skills in the form of certificates of completion. The children of the rich go to Yale and Harvard and other big names, while those from poor working-class families get certificates in this or that skill that they can add to their resumes to be desired by employers. [From “On the Great Resignation” published on CounterPunch on February 24, 2023]”

“[Donor Countries] When are we going to understand That donor countries never donate anything for free. When are we going to understand That the only countries that donate Are those with the biggest role in destruction and ravage? That such countries only donate To shape societies and destroyed countries According to their whims and their desires… That their only aim is To keep the defeated the marginalized the disempowered and the impoverished In that state for as long as they can… When are we going to understand That the easiest way to identify and name the big criminals, Is to take a quick look at the list of donor countries? [Original poem published in Arabic on November 12, 2022 at ahewar.org]”

“For decades, the exploitative capitalist system and neoliberalism have been trying to persuade the world that it is for our best interest to reduce (or even erase) the public sector and give more power to the greedy private sector. They have been pushing -with great success – for the privatization of every service that can benefit the poor and marginalized people. They have and still are trying to get rid of universal healthcare anywhere their hands can reach. Why do they do so? The answer is simpler than we think: it is to keep people at the mercy of the greedy capitalist system that sees individuals as either potential cheap laborers to benefit from or a burden to dispose of when no longer usable. This global pandemic should be a wake-up call to all of us about how duped the world has been all along by this narrative. How many more disasters and pandemics will it take for the world to wake up?”

“As the taxi moved, I started checking out all the new buildings and streets. It was clear that whereas some people had gotten better off, others were worse off or had simply stagnated. Infrastructure reveals so much about a place and its culture, politics, and people. The disparities between the poor and the rich neighborhoods…show that ‘time’ was not ticking at the same pace for everyone. Time was not moving favorably for everyone. Even time is like power in that it moves some people forward, some backward, and some to the sides and the margins. Time also buries some people under the ground.”

“Botox" In a friendly exchange with a shopper in a grocery story line, she joyfully declared: “Today is my 50th birthday!” I said, “It looks like the hands of Time have touched your face gently. Happy birthday!” “The hands of Time weren’t gentle on me, my dear. What you see are the wonders of botox,” she said. “They say it freezes face features and expressions. Is that true?” I inquired half-jokingly. “At this stage of my life, it makes no difference. I no longer need any expressions. There is nothing worth smiling for or frowning upon. I spent decades expressing in every physical and verbal way possible, all in vain,” she said. Her words were followed by a hopeless giggle that reminded me of the philosopher who wrote that as we advance in age, our fears are replaced with giggles. She then continued, “There is a time when you discover that all verbal and physical expressions are futile. In everyone’s life, there’s one defining event that freezes everything in their lives. Anything that happens after that event is no more than desperate and hopeless attempts to pretend that we are okay.” Before I managed to find the appropriate words, the cashier called on her. The timing was ideal as words froze on my tongue just like the botox freezes features and expression in a world in which words and expressions are of no use anymore. [Original text published in Arabic on October 14, 2024 at ahewar.org]”

“The Eternal Friends The three eternal friends, Time, Loneliness and Death, met at a small old café. 'You won’t last long. I will destroy you at the end,' said Time to Loneliness. 'And I will drain every minute and every second in your life. Nothing will give you joy no matter what you do or how hard you try,' Loneliness responded. After a short silence, once Death pronounced its sentence, Loneliness vanished and Time passed. June 20, 2013”

“Are You Afraid of Sadness?” In an old interview with a famous and talented Iraqi actress, the interviewer asked, 'Why are you afraid of sadness?' The actress responded, 'I am afraid of it because it quickly takes you to a place from which you can never return.' And exactly as she answered, insightful viewers could feel the sadness on her face, indicating that the actress herself wasn’t truly present in the interview— sadness had long since taken her, with no return. November 19, 2023”

“Are you Afraid of Sadness?" In an old interview with a famous and talented Iraqi actress, the interviewer asked her: “Why are you afraid of sadness?” The actress responded: “I am afraid of it because it quickly takes you to a place from which you can never return.” And exactly as she was answering, an insightful viewer could notice a sadness on her face indicating that the famous and talented actress herself wasn’t really present in the interview for sadness had long taken her with no return… [Original poem published in Arabic on November 19, 2023 at ahewar.org]”

“Taxi Driver" There is something strangely liberating about being just a taxi driver… The secret lies in the “just”! Because you’re just a taxi driver, nobody really sees you… But you see, hear, and feel the absurdities, the shallowness, the beauty, the sorrow, the joy, the heartbreak of every rider! Most treat you with half or totally fake respect, because you’re just a taxi driver… But they leave you alone They don’t find justifications or create crises to take over your seat… In fact, they want you to be exactly in that seat! After all, they only ride with you because - at least for that time – they don’t wish to occupy your seat… Yet, like every sense of liberation, Being a taxi driver, is a liberation kneaded with a strange sadness and disappointment when you realize that the motherfuckers only leave you alone when you run away from them and occupy a seat that they don’t desire during the their ride …. [Original poem published in Arabic on June 21, 2923 at ahewar.org]”

“بينما كنت أشاهد صوراً التقطها عبر السنين اتضح لي بأني اعشق الأبواب العتيقة ... فأنا ابحث عنها في كل مكان لأصورها وأتأملها ... فتجدني أتخيل بأن لهذه الأبواب عيون وأتسأل عن كل ما رأته من الخارج وعن كل ما مر بها عن كل من مر منها ومن أمامها ... أضيع في رحيلي وأنا أتخيل كل ما دار خلفها من أفراح وأتراح من غنى وعوز من نفاق ونميمة من أيام مملة وكئيبة عاشها ساكنيها خلفها وهي ومغلقة .. وتراني اتأمل في تصاميم أبواب من أزمان مختلفة وفي أماكن مختلفة.. بعضها ينم عن ذوق سيء زاده مرور الزمن سوءاً ... وأتخيل كيف ظن أهلها يومها بأنها أجمل ما كان! وبعضها – الأكثر عتقاً – تبدو وكأنها تزداد جمالاً بمرور الزمن ... وكأن القبح والجمال غير ثابتان ... ام تراه قصور في العين البشرية التي لا تميز بين الجمال الحقيقي والقبح الحقيقي إلا بعد فوات الآوان؟ بعض الأبواب معدنية ويملؤها الصدأ بشكل يشبه تآكل قيم ومبادئ البشر، بعضها خشبي ورغم الثقوب والحفر المتناثرة عليها، تراها لازالت توحي بالدفء والأمان .. بعض هذه الأبواب العتيقة لم تعد تفتح إلا للسواح بعضها أجبر اهلها على تركها دون رجعة بعضها الآخر تفتح من حين لآخر لزوار سريين لا يعرفهم احد ولا نعرف ماذا يفعلون خلفها بعد دخولهم ... وما أكثر الأبواب العتيقة المحاطة بسلاسل وأقفال صدئة ابتلع الزمن اهلها ومفاتيحها .. وكم تحزنني الأبواب العتيقة والجميلة التي أضعنا مفاتيحها إلى الأبد بسبب طيشنا وحماقاتنا ...”

“Happy New Year? Oh, dear friends, this statement is like a dagger that gets pushed one inch deeper into my chest each time I hear it…Oh, my friends, let’s not celebrate the traditional holidays that no longer mean anything to many of us. Let’s find a new celebration day to celebrate every human life. Let’s do away with all celebrations imposed on us by the oppressive political and religious establishments around the world. Let’s stop killing each other. Let’s stop waging wars against each other. Let’s stop imposing economic sanctions on each other. Let’s stop closing borders in the face of each other. Let’s do away with all the fake, expensive, shiny, and nicely wrapped gifts of indifference. Let’s work a bit harder on the most precious human gift possible—the gift of listening carefully to each other.”

“Those in power love it when we hold on to our fake optimism year after year, instead of revolting against these worn out celebrations. They love it when they see millions of mindless consumers storming stores to buy and consume more shiny and glittering gifts, as if they are genuine signs of loving and caring for each other. They love it when we keep quiet and do business as usual while ‘hoping for a better new year.’ So, let’s declare it loud and clear: We are not happy! Also, there is nothing new with these traditional celebrations hijacked by businessmen who have reduced them into nothing more than an excuse for consuming goods.”

“If you tour any workplace, you will see countless logos and banners paying lip service to freedom of speech, democracy, logos like ‘speak up, speak out’, creativity, innovation, and on and on goes the list of flashy words and adjectives that companies and corporations want their employees (and outsiders) to believe are part of their work ethics and culture. Yet, most employees learn at the earliest stages of their careers that these bogus adjectives will get them fired, if they are naïve enough to believe in – let alone act on – them.”

“In reality, in most American companies, only few handpicked—arguably appointed— individuals in powerful positions; positions like leadership, finance, treasury, advisory, and so on, have the last say in what matters. Their words, no matter how nonsensical, are treated as the ultimate wisdom. Their silences are emulated by everyone else working under them, regardless of any human, capital, or ethical costs resulting from such silences. These powerful individuals are often so emotionally and intellectually abusive that employees treat even their most absurd suggestions as roadmaps dictating the direction of any company or project at hand.”

“The Silence Game" Many have understood the game and chose to remain silent… They chose silence thinking that their silence will save them… Yet silence killed them through heart attacks, without even giving them a chance to scream at least one last time to inform the world that silence is much more costly than resistance… [Original poem published in Arabic on December 11, 2023 at ahewar.org]”

“Sounds" Few are the sounds that deepen and enrich silence .. There are sounds without which silence remains incomplete, like a ticking clock or the sudden sound of a cycling fridge… The chirping roaches and cicadas, or croaking frogs… Then there are those sounds that make existence more alienating and unbearable, like the scuffle of a big insect against a window or a door as if committing suicide! Or a creaking rusty door we close behind a departing loved one, knowing deep inside that they won’t return and nothing would be the same after closing that door.. The whistling sound of a kettle declaring that peace and tranquility are illusions that never last… There are also those sounds that summarize the traumas of the past from which hearers never recover, like the screams and cries of the woman next door when beaten by her husband… The coughing, spitting, and heavy breathing of an elderly woman we visited in our childhood… And can we ever forget the sounding sirens of the ships and trains declaring that departure is inevitable? [Original poem published in Arabic on September 15, 2023 at ahewar.org]”

“Cancer is Everywhere I see cancer everywhere Everywhere… I see people carefully examining Food labels and ingredients, But cancer is everywhere… There are those jogging and those running, There are those spending hours at the gyms… And those increasing the amounts of veggies and fruits in their diets, But cancer is everywhere, everywhere… There are those totally cutting sugars and fats Those taking multivitamins and other supplements, But cancer is everywhere…everywhere! Many no longer have time to smile or greet others For they are occupied with eating more parsley and tomatoes Or perhaps increasing their intake of Blueberries, blackberries, or broccoli, But cancer is everywhere… You see them replace their water bottles and cookware With others made from non-cancerous materials, But cancer is everywhere… Cancer cases are almost higher than Refugees and alienation Higher than human cowardice, compromise, and conspiracies… Cancer cases are about to reach the levels Of human fear of confronting the ugliness of what’s happening in the world… I see everyone pretending That what’s going on is none of their business Just to stay afloat To avoid getting cancer, But cancer is everywhere Everywhere… [Original poem published in Arabic on October 30, 2022 at ahewar.org]”

“(Guaranteeing Tomorrow) I watch in sorrow most people occupied with collecting more money getting more promotions building bigger houses purchasing more real estate and other possessions new cars more products to consume… I see people obsessed with owning anything and everything they could lay their hands on to guarantee tomorrow to ensure luxurious lives… Yet few realize that tomorrow may never come, and if it does come, it shall be sad, scary, and desolate… Few realize that it may not rain tomorrow that the land may completely dry up that everyone’s preoccupation with possessing more, is the very thing that shall cause humanity’s demise, after draining all possible forms of life… Few are aware that the panic, the fear, and the obsession with guaranteeing tomorrow, are exactly what have made tomorrow impossible to guarantee… What a painful paradox… [Original poem published in Arabic on February 7, 2024 at ahewar.org]”

“Language is a living being that grows and dies. It can be healthy, sick, nurtured, or malnourished. It all depends on those using it. Just as in you are what you eat, it is even more precise to say you are what you say, what you read, and what you write…language can turn into a prison or a set of wings that can help us fly. It all depends on how we use it to challenge, expand, and question every single word we utter or write. Language is the beginning and the end of what makes us human. The language we do remains alive way after we depart this world. Language is in our mothers’ first lullaby, the first time we tell someone ‘I love you’, and we often talk about the significance of someone’s last words before they died. Therefore, we cannot decolonize anything, least of all knowledge production, if we do not examine why we say the things we say and how we get to internalize and express the things that shape our lives. In fact, language is truly the only home that remains even in exile when all else is lost.”

“Shocks and Joys" The biggest shocks in life were: That freedom is a lie Choosing chains carefully is more important than chasing illusions… That family and relatives are but a hit or miss biological coincidence… That life isn’t short as they claim for those who understand the game… That there is no friend in need, but indeed, need is the only constant friend… The biggest joys in life were: The smell of a freshly baked loaf of bread A sip of water The depth of a word The taste of a fresh fig The silence and tunes of nature The unexpected scent of a rose that tickles the nose after having fallen in the abyss of despair… [Original poem published in Arabic on March 9, 2023 at ahewar.org]”

“A Moment of Joy" The ruling global elites are holding their breath in anticipation of who may be the first to start a nuclear war! The wealthy and the stock market traders are fearfully watching the fluctuation in the stock prices… Writers, media pundits, and academics on the payroll of power and authority are worried about a potential revolution that may put an end to the powers in place, and consequently to their existence! Doctors, engineers, and other professionals are all alarmed and watching the job market in fear of losing their cushy jobs! Only the waitress at the nearby restaurant is experiencing a moment of joy for the generous tip she just received from the last customer tonight! [Original poem published in Arabic on October 30,2023 at ahewar.org]”

“Fate’s Smile" That line from an old Turkish song is still ringing my ears… A song they used to play on the radio in my teenage years on hot and boring summer days… The song had melancholy tunes, recoded with basic technology… The singer repeated in a hesitant and defeated voice: Bize de bir gün kader güler, güler inşallah… [The fate will one day smile at us, too. One day it will smile, Inshallah…] [Original poem published in Arabic on August 12, 2023 at ahewar.org]”

“[A]s an anthropologist, my job is not to love or hate, like or dislike, admire or disdain others. My purpose is primarily to understand not only how things are, but how/why they became the way they are…if I could sum up the most valuable thing I have learned from anthropology, it is this: the problems we have in this world are not Black, Muslim, Russian, Chinese, white, and so on. Our problems are simply human problems. They happen because we are born or thrown into certain contexts, places, circumstances, and structures that are often much bigger than ourselves, and we then try to make sense, resist, fight, accept, or give in to our circumstances in various ways. All our human successes and failures highly depend on our will, awareness, and the resources available to us to make individual or communal changes. [From “The Trump Age: Critical Questions” published on CounterPunch on June 23, 2023]”

“[The Gaze of an Invisible Stranger] In western Europe and north America In the cities of cruelty, racism, freedom & democracy, Cities of exile and alienation, You see many young people Who’d rather die than greet a stranger, You observe how they master the art of ignoring And not acknowledging the humanity of anyone Who is not their height and weight Whose features, skin color, and eyes are different than theirs… In return, you observe cities filled with older people Who delight at a nod or greeting from any stranger Who are hungry for the slightest kind human touch From any by passerby… Making you, the Invisible Stranger, wonder: Did these same elderly folks raise the young ones? Are they merely inheriting a world of their creation? Do the young ones realize The isolation, loneliness, and desolation awaiting them tomorrow? [Original poem published in Arabic on January 3, 2023, at ahewar.org]”

“[Long Life] This famous writer has died at 92 And that legend journalist, The darling of authorities and mainstream media, Has died at 95. This pious religious man Has died at 96, And that billionaire, Known for his countless charities and charitable deeds Has died at 96 also… The veteran and shrewd politician, The former president of that country, Has died at 95 as well… And the same questions that dawned on me Ever since I understood the oppression & filthiness Of what the elites, authorities, and those in power are capable of, Begin ringing in my ears once again: Can anyone aware of the ugliness of what is going on live a long life? Is it a coincidence that most people, writers, and artists Who enriched my awareness and world died prematurely Or died, literally or metaphorically, by suicide, assassination, or in prison? Can a shred of awareness fell upon us without defeating the body and the soul Cell by cell and one organ after another causing a premature death? I also wonder have the writers, journalists, religious men, and politicians Who lived long lives enriched truth and justness, Or have they gotten rich at the expense of the above to live long lives up to 92, 93, 94, 95, & 96? And by biggest questions of all: Is there somewhere, in some world, in some place, a dagger of awareness that stabs without the killing the stabbed prematurely? [Original poem published in Arabic on December 31, 2022, at ahewar.org]”

“I’m red poppy from the mountains of the homeland The winds are my tunes The thunder is my voice When I object what is going on… Rains are my tears When I’m speechless The gushing sounds of water Are my hearty songs… *** I’m red poppy from the mountains of the homeland When I welt, I shall leave smiling And assured that my seeds Shall create vast meadows of wildflowers For future generations Wiser than you and I…”

“[Imprisoned Poem] Somewhere deep inside me There lies an imprisoned poem A poem that is Buried Chained And holding its breath Ages ago… A poem about futility The fragility of words About alarms, if sounded, They’d be either destined to silence Or get written on the walls of indifference… There is an ancient poem Imprisoned in my soul Waiting to be released impatiently, In due time… Like a house cat this imprisoned poem keeps eagerly watching Every move outside the window, Without any participation… And like a house cat, Whenever this imprisoned poem Gets exhausted by the triviality of reality, It sleeps for long hours Only to wake up and find The status quo unchanged And the strings moving the puppets uncut… It then looks out the window in sorrow And goes back to sleep once again To dream of a less ugly world… My imprisoned poem has vowed not to release itself From the deepest points in my soul Until everyone else is awake For its release to be meaningful… (November 17, 2014)”

“They say the world will end soon. They say that the nuclear weapons made, Due to fearing ‘the other’, Have become a curse, a plague, a scourge On those who made them Even more than those they were made to scare... And I wonder: Will the nuclear weapons be the cause of the world’s end? Or will the world’s end be caused by humanity’s fear, complicity, and submission? And if what they say is true, Before the world ends and before I die, I wish to drink one last cup of cardamom-flavored tea Taste one last fig, peach, or apricot, Smell a quince, Dip one last piece of bread In Palestinian thyme and olive oil… Before the world ends, I wish to smell a few pine needles, To breathe the smell of the first rain shower After a long, hot, and dry summer… Before the world ends and before I die, I wish to read one more book Out of the thousands of books that I still want to read… Before the world ends and before I die, I ask for one more spring To smell bunches of Iraqi narcissus flowers. I want to live one more autumn, To enjoy the magical colors Of the dying leaves on the trees As they challenge death with beauty Right before falling on the grounds of indifference… But my biggest wish before I die is For my death not to be the end of the world… [Original poem published in Arabic by ahewar.org on October 13, 2022]”

“It is extremely disturbing to live in a society that sees older people as a burden rather than rich experiences to benefit from and build upon. Older people can act as the memory that can help us make sense of what was, what is, and what could and should be. I see that in the U.S. older people are not only made invisible in a culture obsessed with youth and superficial physical appearances, but often their insights, experiences, and perspectives are dismissed as ‘nostalgic’ or as outright ‘ignorant’ using the ‘generational gap’ as a pretext.”

“Exhaustion Salima sat in the fancy hotel room In the evening time. Here she is again in another foreign city, Attending a conference discussing “human rights”. Her eyes roamed the room. She suddenly felt a severe chill in her body. She suddenly realized that she is exhausted, But her exhaustion is not that of one day, It was one of a lifetime! It fell upon her abruptly. The thoughts of the bygone years Nested in her head, Were suddenly awoken. One thought after another. She realized at that moment That she is tired of responding to The same absurd questions About her origins Her ethnicity, Her religion, Her hobbies, Her favorite foods, Her education background, Her age, And her occupation. Questions asked frequently by people who don’t care. She suddenly realized That throughout her life, She never found a friend who could really understand. The evening was about to draw its dark curtains. She remembered that ever since she was a child, She had been hiding her favorite words and writings In notebooks that nobody will read. She has been murmuring her favorite tunes, In places where nobody could hear her. The evening was about to draw its dark curtains. She realized that her true thoughts and feelings Lived nowhere expect inside of her head, And there they will most likely die. Her head had become like a prison for her thoughts. The evening was about to draw its dark curtains. She suddenly realized That she had wasted so many years of her life Looking for someone who might understand. And each time she thought she had found one, She found herself in yet another prison. She looked through the window of the fancy hotel room And saw that the darkness had covered the entire city. September 9, 2017”