The Trip (3)

Please read “The Trip (1)” & “The Trip (2)” first

The same noise… the many voices, and the cries… some emotions and… a smile. Many eyes looking at, and many faces staring at… me. Some of the eyes and some the faces didn’t change… Yes, the scene is the same, with some differences… Many murmurs… emotions are now expressed in whispers with some silent tears. I can hear some steps, many steps… A movement, everyone is moving… except… me … “We will miss her”… “She will leave a space”…

The voices and the faces were there from the beginning, it was the film strip of my life being reviewed in my memory. Flashes of many events, memories, emotions and voices… The voices which are fading out now… and the emotions which can’t be felt any more… My name does no more exist… as I, myself do no more exist in this world! Only the cold smile on my face is still here.

Is this is the end of The Trip… my life trip… or the start of the real trip… The Trip I should have prepared for a while ago…

Mena Mostafa

The Trip (2)

Please read “The Trip (1)” first

It’s still very noisy… lots of voices, many voices, almost the same voices… the cries and the laughs… in addition to… emotions… emotions transferred through the voices…
Emotions joined The Trip… I am now accompanied by a name, voices and emotions… Emotions of happiness, grief, satisfaction, pain, joy, angriness, love, hate, faith, doubt, contentment, sorrow, acceptance, regret… and other countless emotions… Weird creatures we are! How can we contain, feel and express such emotions!
This time, voices were expressing happiness… my happiness and theirs for the first success in my life… More voices, listen carefully… It’s sadness, sadness for my failure…
A series of success and failure events running after each other, and not giving me or them the time to breathe… This is life… my life intersecting theirs and accompanied by… more voices, and… The Trip continues…

To be continued…

Mena Mostafa

The Trip (1)

It’s very noisy… lots of voices, many voices… cries… No, not cries, only one cry and laughs, many laughs and a smile or two. Many eyes looking at it… many faces staring at it, and… two faces looking at it and at each other and smiling with happiness.
“It’s very nice”… “Oh my God! I can’t believe it, after all these months!”… “Congratulations”… “Let’s name it…”
All these eyes and faces were looking and staring at… me. “Menna”…
Yes… I was born. “What a little name for a little creature! This is my name, the only thing accompanying me as long as I exist. Anyways, it is nice and simple, I like it… Menna” I am now accompanied by the name and… the voices, the many voices, mine and theirs… Seems this how creatures communicate in this world. I was the only cry at this time, and they were the many laughs for the first baby in this family’s new generation.
The Trip started… The Trip with the name and… the voices…

To be continued…

Mena Mostafa

Green Heads

“Hi!” a light blue square popped up at the bottom of my screen… a cold small square with a word or two. Clicked the small square to start exchanging other icy words with a larger blue square.

People became images in the corner of the large blue square… feelings turned into dummy smilies drawn on the squares. Tens of squares open… hundreds of words exchanged… and millions of feelings lost… and lost their meanings… lost their warmth. Distances were shortened and… gaps became deeper... humanity was digitized.

All screens are the same and… you are nothing more than a large blue square on my screen… you are nothing more than one of the Green Heads in my contact list.

Mena Mostafa

Waiting…

Passed the door… stood up watching… watching people… travelers arriving and leaving… continuous motion and… I stand still, just watching. I am not sure whether my train is late or it is me who arrived before time. Have I just passed the door of an arriving train, or passed the station door to take a train, but… I am here.

A whistle… a train… is this my train? My legs don’t move, can’t move… Should I be there? A second whistle… “Wait…”, my screaming voice was lost in the crowd… and the train left… left without me.

When will the next train arrive? How will it look like? Will it have a place for me? Should I wait for it? Should I be on its board? Or should I leave the station? What is behind the gates?

I am tired… tired of thinking… of dreaming… of waiting… Waiting for the next train… the train which may never come… Waiting for my dreams to come true… Waiting for tomorrow to wait for the day after…

Mena Mostafa