Only weeks I can count on a single hand remain before my eventual return. It hasn’t even come yet and I’m mourning it’s inevitable end. Life is both cruel and generous that I have this little time to rediscover my homeland. As the time draws nearer and nearer, it becomes more difficult to sleep at night. I find myself either smiling like a fool or staring blankly with unquestionable anger. The solution for me is to write. I’ll put down my thoughts here; now, during and after of course. And I hope forever. I’ve looked through my pictures that I took now more than a year ago and can still distinctly remember taking each one. I also remember the ones I didn’t take. The moments I would stand overlooking the sunrise and sunset atop of my uncles rooftop. As much as I wanted to take a picture, I convinced myself to keep conscious, just to live in that moment. The moment I forget the Palestinian sunrise is the moment I need to move back for good. But how could I ever forget? I’ve yet to visit the sea that unrelentingly smashes against the rocks, in hopes that it might break them – it never ceases; and yet today I had this flashback as I was standing by water trying to swallow the rocks on the shore with no success. It’s as if I was a once a king in Akka and had the sea in my veins. It’s moments like these that allow me to realize the significance of my being; in any instant I can be whomever I want to be. The memories I make in this life time will pave the way for a dynasty, and the people in my life will either furnish it or tear it down – we are the sum of our experiences. In less than a months time I will study how the moon hangs in the eastern night sky fighting the nights attempt to swallow it whole and I’ll study how the jasmine flowers tenaciously give out their scent, in an attempt to shower the world and I will learn from them both. I was a king and I will have it all back.