Syria’s Little Touch


The only sensed relaxation from the news media’s coverage of one its most discussed countries, is of my own making. An unconscious involuntary relaxing of the mouth, the tip of my tongue placed close to the back of my upper front teeth where I proceed to gently blow out air hissing the whispering sounds of Syria. Accusations of being over-the-top; an embellished theatrical performance, with likelihoods of reconstructing that broken fourth wall between performers and their respective audience, has become as realistic an illusion of people crossing imaginary border lines, while objectively, hasn’t it for the most part been the other way around?





More or less an anomaly, the impressions left from sautéing onions, mixed with ginger, garlic, teaspoons of red chilli and turmeric powder were of a different sort.

Mother’s staple ingredients had always the ability to reach my core. In the past it defined me, initiating from without rather than within. The resilient spices bequeathed an aroma penetrating every nook and cranny, latching on to hairs, fabrics, deep down to ones conscious perception, and in a brown skinned boys white world, the last thing desired are his differences to be more evident.


Awaiting ‘Generation C’

Palestine boy

If anything, Israel can view Canada as a mentor. Having successfully illegally occupied territory belonging to an advanced civilization, significantly diminishing their populations through war and disease while being more than efficacious at relocating the majority to ghettos. One may argue that this is simply Canada’s ‘European settler’ aged history, a time where ethnic discrimination was pervasive. Surely, this is Canada’s aged history, yet undeniably it is Canada’s centuries long continuous historical saga right up to this present moment.