Path Of The Wind

Part 3:《An ex-best friend 》

Adem

GHOSTLY WHISTLING through emptiness, angrily playing with those dead leaves underneath naked solid trees, the wind furiously blew as the cold hugged my skin and leaked through the tiniest holes of my black suit that didn't provide any source of warmth.

Standing at the exit of the company not sure where to go next, I was unsure if I should just go back home or wander until my legs could no more.

Just like the wind path, Colorless, unseen, and undiscovered, I couldn't figure out where was I standing at this point in my life.

How I ended up lost, and how strong the wind blew in every possible direction and made it feel like I've come back to the start again.

The dreams we promised to achieve all three of us was something my Heart deeply wanted, that deeply every one of us wanted for each other but because we ended up all scattered down randomly different destinations, over an empty promise.

It felt meaningless in the end.

like I've been forced to it to this moment.

Like I've been forced to sketch those buildings, some that I particularly wanted to recreate, for those without a home or simply to make my art.

A jobless architect that applied for the twentieth time to get a decent job at some national company.

It wasn't because I looked western that I was treated that way, the tanned skin of mine and the double eyelid I had, the facial hair around my chin, and all of those superficials.

I spoke fluent Korean just like my other Arabic half, I was confident in those sketches I drew, but as hard as pronouncing the name I was given since birth, it was hard for them not to think negative things about Muslims, knowing either by name, or the country my mom came from or simply answering the curiosity linked to the origin of my name, just like that they found out, and so my hope getting jobs dropped to some certain degree.

Even though discrimination was still a thing, it would be extremely unfair To blame it all on my ethnicity, because some didn't care at all about how I looked, how I grew up, and what Islam even was when all of these things made me stand out like a monument,  people knew just too little to even care too much.

Apart from my individuality, society was getting harsher toward people targeting all ages. with inflation being a disease that infected the education system and the workplaces, more than often having an opportunity was like finding the cure.

By walking the large street I realized I was one of the very few young adults walking around on a busy Monday morning, there was mostly elders sitting down drinking coffee, retelling their life to each other over and over again.

Some stories that would be better said to the stubborn younger generation, one that didn't know how awesome stories they were missing until they will be telling it themselves, stories that die and nobody would hear ever again, just like secrets we live with every day.

I saw kids under the age of six, they didn't start school yet so they were playing in the park, they were running as fast, kids with energy that last for the whole day and more, kids having peaceful minds, clean history, pure hearts, and many big dreams just like me back then.

Among these age variations, all my attention was drawn to this young lady, she just seemed around my age and she was passing by with her baby while talking on the phone: " don't worry honey, I took an umbrella with me " constantly smiling in happiness made me feel warmer inside.

She didn't have anything I was looking for and I felt a bit sorry that she was giving out everything, her youth, her beauty, and her energy but seeing how happy, and confident she was, made me pity myself instead.