Writers would say it was a normal day until something has happened. However, I am not a writer and none of the days she has lived could ever be qualified as normal by any normal human being with normal life. That day seemed exactly like the day before, like the same day a year ago or the same day after ten years from then. You could say she was stuck in a tasteless colorless dimension. For her, the time has stopped, and she cared no more where her wandering thoughts carried her except for one question that kept prompting every now and then. The question haunted her thoughts and appeared like a mirage in front of her eyes, it covered every landscape and sight. She was puzzled whether that question was a mere delusion or the only truth she has ever known. She gathered all that is left of her courage and looked into the deepest details of whatever her eyes caught sight of. The details of that city seemed shattered like a broken mirror, yet the small pieces created a mosaic of contradictions portraying dance, life, birth, death, pleasure, and pain. The city seemed tired of its own details, its passersby, its visitors and guests, and even of its houses which seemed like piles of stones that do not differ that much from the rubble left by the continuous wars the city has witnessed. The sun scalding the city seemed pale and tired, the wind that scoured through the tiny roads seemed to play a symphony of sorrow and melancholy mourning the numerous ones who have deceased. The city looked so to those who knew its truth or those who at least tried to dig through it and wanted to know it the way it was.

She took a deep breath, she sighed, she wanted to cross the road, but she remained hesitant monitoring the surreal sights of construction and destruction side-by-side. She watched the pale smiles on the faces of the crowd, she wondered about the paradox of those smiles and the story behind every single one. Some suffering the hardship of life in a war doomed area, those who endlessly wander aimlessly and have nowhere to go, those speaking to one’s self, those who live the state of denial, those who love, those who wonder about what, when, who, where, and why, and those who wonder or care about nothing at all.

She gathered all that is left of her courage, her feet felt heavy carrying her through the sights of the city, glimpses of sun heatwaves caressed her face, and the wind cuddled her hair. She needed a breath as her soul couldn’t endure her fears. Her own questions were gigantic like mountains, she had doubts and fears, her confusion grew with every step she walked through that dead-beat city. It was the sight of children playing on the side of the road, running, imitating war scenes that shocked the mother inside her, would her child take part on those children games? Would her child fall for those stories of heroes and death, or would he see heroism in promoting life and love. She recalled the face of her two years old child, she remembered the panic, the pain, the plight, and the trauma she had to go through when she was a child herself. Her grey eyes started to dig deep beneath every sight for details, the dust in the air, the voices of the people, the horns of the cars, the sand on the side of the road, the black spots of the leaking engine-oil from power generators staining the ground every here and there, she thought those black spots belonged to the city more than any of the inhabitants  or the visitors visiting the city to take meaningless photos.

She recalled the face of her child once more, she smiled, fear shook her body from head to toe, she felt the lump in her throat, she asked what if … if … if … and what if … many reasonable and unreasonable question … then she wondered if her questions would ever have answers, and if so, would the answers be of any help at all. She could hear the beats of her heart irritated by both anxiety and tiredness, unconsciously her thump touched her marriage ring, and she thought he would come for her, he would come, no matter what, he would eventually come. Her feet were crawling, one forward, the other backward, wondering what would she find on the other end, on the other side, her mind drew bizarre images of possibilities letting her nothing but utter confusion, what could it be on the other side? Is it life? Is it death? Is it pleasure? Is it friend or foe? Is it her ultimate desire or her worst fears as a woman?