This is a quiet place, demands no limitations, and is my space to take.
The story of Roheeb, the combination of human
The first time I knew Roheeb was through his voice, he had an innocent welcoming voice, seeing him was the natural next step.. but reaching him was no easy task. I had to visit streets I never went to, the roads kept going, from empty to full.. suddenly tables and chairs started to blossom on both sides as I drove, men appeared playing domino and smoking cigarettes, his directions were rough, but I reached full of predictions.
I predicted it to be a small place, tiny and unknown, old and dirty. I was right, but there was more.. to reach it I had to climb a small mountain, nothing out of my league.. I was just afraid people I love would follow me and start falling flat on their backs.. I continued dismissing the disturbing thought and reached the front door of his place, he called it Ocksh. I sat on a couch that was dirty..
It was dirty in spite the fact its nylon packaging is still intact.
Roheeb came to Kuwait only last august, I assumed he was alone, but I saw this young man inside the room, whom Roheeb introduced as his first son. He looked fresh out of detention center.. more, he looked like a frequent detainee. I found myself worrying about his well being, and my mind played a scene where I hug and assure him I will always be there for him. Roheeb tells me never to mind, and walks out of Ocksh, forgets about the little mountain, and falls to his death… I know it’s his death because the guys who were playing domino kept on playing, and smoking, they memic life, and life goes on. His son runs to the edge of the mountain, sees him motionless. For a few seconds, he cries, for a few seconds he collects what remains found in Roheeb’s pockets, and then he walks, gets hit by a car, thrown right to his fathers arms.
I am back in the room, at the Ocksh, Roheeb is still alive, but is now a woman.