Picture taken by Restful Rain june 2006
I want to speak…no, not really I hate talking!
Most of my time I spend driving in Al Ain roads. To me it is not driving its diving. Diving in the hot roads of Al Ain. I observe and absorb the tired faces that had given up to the heat of the sun and to the cruel labor officers. I wonder how many times they tried to swim to the surface and how many times they died trying to. Oh! you can see that some of them are dead but some of them still alive feeding and breathing their dreams.
I looked in his face were pieces of his soul’s wings scattered given a strange color to his restless eyes. He wanted to cry but he has been crying silently for ages till his voice became the guitar of his pain.
I want to speak…no, not really I hate talking!
Most of my time I spend driving in Al Ain roads. To me it is not driving its diving. Diving in the hot roads of Al Ain. I observe and absorb the tired faces that had given up to the heat of the sun and to the cruel labor officers. I wonder how many times they tried to swim to the surface and how many times they died trying to. Oh! you can see that some of them are dead but some of them still alive feeding and breathing their dreams.
I looked in his face were pieces of his soul’s wings scattered given a strange color to his restless eyes. He wanted to cry but he has been crying silently for ages till his voice became the guitar of his pain.
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