Fatima Al Matar فاطمة المطر

Isn’t joy the shadow of sorrow? Isn’t sorrow the shadow of joy? In an experiment conducted in a zoo sometime in the late fifties an ape w...

In a recorded lecture I found on Youtube given by the genius writer Vladimir Nabokov I heard him say: “Where there is beauty, there i...

Young tulip stems shoot shyly yet firmly from the cold stubborn earth, little innocent pink flowers plant themselves audaciously on dry b...

Tomorrow there will be hours to fill, errands to run, faces to see, conversations to have and queries to answer. I will need to go t...

Distant police sirens shrieking and wailing. The haunting howling of a fierce angry wind. Discarded empty cans cartwheeled and scurried...

Two years ago you came to see me very late in the evening, you were tired and distraught, your grandfather had past and you took care of a...

I thought I had willed her into being, I foolishly and arrogantly imagine I had created her from myself, from my dreams, my thoughts, ...