Relativity Theory

Can you see with my eyes? Can I see with yours? Can you see what I see? Can you feel what I feel? I doubt... You are not me… We are not the same… Our eyes are different… so are our understanding, feelings judgments and decisions. You might hate what I like… You might disagree with what I want… For some, losing what is worth in the eyes of others is simple… For some, what is worth having might be valueless to others. We might regret today’s decisions tomorrow… but today, they were the best to make… Decisions are relative to our views… our views change every while, as we ourselves do not stay the same. The side of the coin facing me is different than the side facing you… Both sides are true, both of us are right… It is just the different views. Different views control our decisions… Maybe tomorrow I will see your side of the coin, and maybe you will see mine. It is the difference that gives life its taste… It is the difference that gives life its sense … Nothing is absolute… Life is based on Relativity Theory.

Mena Mostafa

The Ring

My eyes were following the hands of the clock moving slowly, so slowly… I was counting seconds… thousands of seconds… 3 days passed now… it is not a long duration to wait, but… the number of seconds is scaring. I almost studied the shape of every key and the form of every number on each of the keys… I can close my eyes and still see the small keypad… I memorized it while waiting for The Ring… the phone ring of the call… the call that was occupying my thinking lately… I am not sure how long this thought has been dominating my mind, but I know the number of seconds I was waiting, and I am still counting… Finally… a ring…“Hello…”… this is not The Ring I was expecting… Counting continues and… I am still waiting!!

Mena Mostafa

Intersection

Each in his own path, his individual line, his personal life… sometimes paths are parallel, we exist but we never meet… sometimes paths intersect, and we meet… Every day we might meet new people or might know or understand people we met previously… some of them become friends, some become enemies, some keep moving between the relations’ boundaries. Some of them are unforgotten and some can never be remembered. Some influence us, and some just pass without being noticed. Our lives’ Intersection was when we first met. Maybe I can’t remember this moment, but surely I can’t forget your fingerprints in my life. Maybe the thing we will remember more is when time comes to break us apart… this is life, we assemble to separate. Ever thought about self Intersection?!

Mena Mostafa

Game Over

Exhausted… tired and… desperate, the small Rabbit kept running from his hunter. There was a small spark of hope is his tiny little heart to escape and defeat his heartless hunter, the hunter he always trusted. Rabbit told himself “Your carrots can no more attract me, and your bullets will not hurt me. I am weak but I am determined and above all… I am not afraid”… The pursuit continued and Rabbit became more and more strong with his faith and his will to straighten things. It was confidence and will that gave Rabbit his toughness. Now, Exhausted… tired and… desperate, the poor hunter is regretting every second he wasted in this pursue without trying to take the advantage of having Rabbit as a friend … The pathetic hunter could think about nothing… wish nothing but to reach the end of the chase… to reach the sign… the “Game Over” sign.

Mena Mostafa

Tomato

“The door opened… A sudden light blurred my sight… I think it is my turn… I’ve been here for three days now… A nice small, but firm, hand grabbed me into a new transportation means… I was put in… a plate … I took a nice shower… Then I suddenly noticed that there were many little reds like me; just like the ones who were accompanying me in the cold dark room I just left. They were all waiting silently for their turn in the queue. Some of them were meant to be soup, some to be sauce or ketchup, some to participate in different types of salads. We were all giving up, as we knew that this is our destiny… Although we are very friendly and that we share in many kinds of cooking, our lives were meant to end in minutes, we were to be slaughtered shortly. I am not sure yet what I am meant for, I am a Tomato like any other, a knife is app… approa…”

Moral, tomatoes should be respected as they offer their lives to give taste to other types of foods!

I sometimes wonder if I am a Tomato and I am not conscious!!

Mena Mostafa

Who Are We?

“The fear of being deceived is the vulgar version of the quest for Truth”, Emile M. Cioran.

Why do we disguise with words? Why do we say things we don’t really mean? Why do we enjoy fooling others? Why do we say things and act contrarily? Can we be categorized into two types? Black and White? Talkers and Listeners? Deceivers and Believers? Why are bad intentions cloaked with good ones? Why is it difficult to respect the White in the world of Black? Why do Listeners get tricked by Talkers? Why are Believers betrayed by Deceivers? Why aren’t we whom we really are? Why should the truth be covered? Why should reality be denied? Why should we wonder about our identity? Why should we always question… Who are you...? Who am I...? Who Are We?

Mena Mostafa

“The End”

“The End”… the author typed these six letters to denote the closure of the last chapter of his new novel. Familiar, isn’t it? How often do you hear these six letters? How much do you or do others use them? We use them to express “The End” of a movie, a story, a project, a plight, a problem, a program, a road, a relation, a day, a picnic, a dream… then we re-use them in other similar situations to start new ones, and terminate them by these six letters, forming the known expression “The End”. Why do we use this word to express such a meaning? “The End” is a recurring event giving birth to other new event called starts, even the end of a life is a start of a new one. “The End” is the start. “The End”… a misused word in a mis-lived world! Do you have suggestions for a replacement?

Mena Mostafa

Memory

“Memory, all alone in the moonlight
I can dream of the old days
Life was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again”
Those were the sad words of the tranquil old song running in the old bus’ cassette during my Memory trip to the past. The words that drew it all back to me. The words that reminded me of the days I miss. Every passing second is a Memory, I can’t count or remember the passed seconds. I am not sure how life should be measured, with the number of happy seconds, or the number of unforgettable memories? I decided not to count… decided to ignore every Memory… decided not to record anything and not to remember anything. Passed time cannot be lived again, not even in memories, all what memories do is to make us miss the days, miss the past, the past that will never come back. So… I decided just to live the minute without looking back, I decided to forget… I decided to live without a Memory.

Mena Mostafa

The Place

Step after the other… Looking at my moving feet… I am walking… circulating in The Place… The Place where I used to be… Everything has changed… well, not really changed, but not the same, floor and walls are the same, colors are the same, odors are the same, but… The Place is different… people I used to see are absent, laughs I used to hear disappeared… warmth I used to feel is cold… The spirit was missing… We are here, but we are not together, I can’t feel your presence, neither you can feel mine, we can see each other, but we can hardly notice ourselves, we can hear, but we do not listen… The Place became stony, we became stony… The Place lost its taste, it lost its colors. The Place is full with its emptiness.
The Place is You, The Place is Me, The Place is Us… And we are not the same anymore, we are strangers in The Place… The dead place.

Mena Mostafa