Lost in Translation.

I’ve always had a lot to say. A lot of memories to tell, a lot of ideas and words..

I always loved writing, sketching, painting, even photography and video making, but I never mastered any. Never had the full ability of expressing what I had with any of these means. Never had the opportunity of expressing the full details the way I see them in my mind. Drawing the same picture, capturing the same photograph, painting the same shades of color, sketching the same contours and pauses..

Even writing, I’m always torn between Arabic and English; Arabic being my mother tongue, English the language I learnt mainly at school and the language of most of the books I read. I’m even torn between Egyptian and classical Arabic and all the other Arabic dialects that I used to speak back in school. I’m even afraid to write a full post in Egyptian Arabic (the dialect I use at home) since many of the words would ‘fall in between’ and many others I never heard of or say.

I write sentences that are never completed, stories that have to be manipulated to fit in my poor means of translation, paintings that are half-way finished, human sketches ignoring the eyes and fingers. Architecture overlooking enriching details..
In the end: Half of it goes untold.


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