Serenity! Serenity!

There’s serenity here
Words have no meaning
Everyone’s speechless
Surprised with the calmness
Clarity of inner calling
Voices never heard before
All the time there
Yet, oblivious, all this while
Narrating the inner story
From the core
What we are capable of
Living half the life
Now, the other half comes forth

I feel blessed to have such wonderful friends on this site. They are really precious jewells in a world full of fake plastic accessories. I will preserve this friendship till the last click in my life.

"Algerian Marble in the American White House”


It is late and I can get no sleep as every night. It is raining outside and my two goldfinches are quietly sleeping in their cages. I envy them.


I think of a friend with whom I am exchanging letters. I am in Algiers, a city bathed by the Mediterranean Azure waters and my penpal is in Newalla, a small town sleeping in the cornfields of Oklahoma. The Atlantic Ocean divides us but the moon is whispering our hope, passion and love.


A silly program called Ridiculousness is running on MTV. Fed up with the Rob Dyrdek childishness, I took the remote control and zapped to a French channel, France 5. A documentary on American history is being aired. It was, pleasurably, spiced with classic country background music which makes any one long to the Dixie land.


Then a fact came to enrich my knowledge: Algerian marble of fine quality had been shipped long time ago to the newborn nation of America, inorder to clothe its white house. Algerian Barehanded miners, with sweat and blood, extracted that marble.


Many decades later, the USA, which became the world’s superpower, was among the first nations to recognize Algeria’s independence from France. This fact aroused my emotions and invited me to admire the beautiful symbolism of that marble and that freedom, got off once hands. Both, marble and freedom had been scented with saintly and immaculate blood, the red blood of those barehanded miners and those laudable martyrs.


Accordingly, be more than happy, I decided to afford fine marble, as much as I can, to the white house and its dwellers, for the sole purpose of restoring those days of good intentions and friendship. The marble I afford is the letters I write passionately.


I beg your pardon if the language of my letters is not as fine and as scented as that marble of the bygone days, for it is not written with saintly blood but rather with odorless black ink.

I discovered pen-friendship when I was just 13 and since that moment it became a passion, an air to breathe, a daily bread, a reason to wake up every moment to check to mail box.

I turned 36 but I am still that boy who pictures the world as a small village sleeping in the arms of a green forest. A village where flowers flourish in Spring, leaves decorate Autumn, Snowmen smile to passers by in Winter and the friendly sun flirts with the bodies of harvesters in Summer.

I turned 36 and I keep going painting that innocent picture of our world despite the inhumane spirits that manipulates our minds; CNN! ALJAZEERA! BBC! FOX NEWS! TF1!

I turned 36 and I continue to write letters of peace to the world in spite of injustice, despotism, Laboratory-made Ebola and Aids, Government-cooked terrorism..ISIS, ISIL, AlQaida...

I turned 36 and I continue to imagine a mom giving birth to an infant in Free GAZA and whispering in his ears: stay human, stay alive despite the thousands of young men slaughtered every day in Gaza by Tel Aviv, Cairo and Ram Alla.

Hello everyone. Peace and love

Hello All. Peace and Love