Dust and Colors

Dust storm in Ramallah

photography 

nadsat.orange

I quite possibly get attached to people through a smooth sense of commonness. I love the feeling of getting up in the morning and sharing a cup of coffee with the person whom I adore and we smoke our first cigarettes of the day together etc. I love this process of mutually sharing something simple; a guilty pleasure I have in common with that person. It creates a sacred bond. It works not only due to the “similarity” itself but also in the sense that it creates a shared inner intensity of feeling. You are shaking off sleepiness in the way you’re comfortable with, you are being awkwardly silent and stand with sullen eyes before the other person; You are exposed before the eyes of the other person. But exactly because you are both initiating pleasure in your day through the same means (coffee, cigarettes, peculiar silence) it ends up being important. Something which is basic, trivial and pretty much a daily habit when you practice it completely on your own - suddenly obtains magic; its truth shines out, it becomes timeless. And I know it would not be the same if that person hated coffee or was not a smoker. It probably lacks sense and might as well come off as insane or deeply prejudiced - because by all means I believe in attraction and warmth and pure intimacy among people who are quite different and take pleasure in different daily obsessions. I believe in it, it can happen and I respect it. There is no such thing as sharing the first fifteen minutes of your day though with someone who you know that finds intoxication of emotion in the same completely unimportant, tiniest, little things as you do. During these moments, my joy is like no other.

last photo by my baby mu