Sunday, 31 May 2015

القصة والدي

والدي اسمه ايان من  لندن ولكن ولد في مدينة بلجراد عام ١٩٣٧. 

في الحرب العالم ٢ ذحب ابي وجدتي على مدينة نيو يورك, لان عمتها او خالتها تريد ان الاستقبل في شقتها.

ابي يحب البحر والتصوير والطابخ والتجارة والسياسة والمسافرة.

درس التاريخ في الجامعة اكسفورد, وبعد ذلك عمل في بنك ناتيونال وستمنستر في ثو سيتي في الوسط لندن.

...

There, that's the story about my father. I think I will email a couple of people and ask them to add their own bits of text in the comments boxes down there. 

I could move onto my 4 grandparents next, one at a time.

Friday, 29 May 2015

The waves keep on breaking

So, I take part in a project; meet someone at their event; meet their wife, family, friends, previous tutor; read their book; and then they die just 3 weeks later.

The libraries and museums still stand, everything is the same.

Is it horrifying or reassuring?

Is it anything at all?

I sent a beautiful card with 2 birds on a branch which would have reached them both before he died, before they were parted.

I consider being searched by eyesight across a room.

Will I do that to people, staring openly, with eyes like dinner plates, when I am older?


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