Every moment is an analysis of the next step and the recognition of how to reconstruct this life’s physical existence. Words do not complete my thoughts for only they lead me to the fine arts. To sculpt. To construct what I perceive to be my reality. Born in the Middle East, a world that its ideologies are forced into ones mind and daily existence has brought me to question every aspect of my own influences. I do not deny them. I do not embrace them. I do not hate them nor do I care to live in accordance to them. I simply question their negative and positive afflictions. Identity is formed based on what? If I do not belong to anything, am I a more complete individual than not? Do I breathe knowing that the only truth is the honesty that soars through us humans?
originally written 2006
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