I have never managed to talk about myself without turning it into drama.It may be due to the futile and non-academic tracks that my life has taken . So much to say and yet nothing fits together.But maybe that’s the point: everything is supposed to be different, exists as an entity within itself not dependent on some other thought or idea – so in effect when all is said there is no confusion, but rather, an understanding of each individual segment all on its own.There are moments just before falling asleep when your mind wakes up briefly, opening up all these thoughts about that day or the week before,or random questions to ask no one in particular. Somewhere, something triggers what you see the rest of the night: dreams, nightmares, or absolutely nothing at all. Maybe my work in the field of education has made it difficult .I see my students grow up developping identities and coining traits of character and again spinning around opinions for a while to last a bit longer with Very often do I find myself an eternal suferer through some romantic fits ..Yes I am so ,I am romantic . I love flowers and romantic poetry and music… I get all mushy and filled with awe when visiting exotic places at night and I shiver when watching certain movies I like imagining all those happy endings. I grab a romance novel whenever I get depressed and read it from cover to cover until I feel better knowing that (don’t gag) “anything is possible”. Either that or I simply grab it in order to chuck it at the wall in annoyance.Don’t get me wrong…it’s not the “I love you’s” or the kissing and hugging and steamy whatevers that make me a romantic. It’s that nagging idealism that creeps into my personality. It’s the fact that I allow myself to dream of perfect imperfections. And you know what? I wouldn’t give it up for the world.
If you wonder why I am here !!!!!!! that is a question (not THE question) I expect you to come up with a satisfactory answer to it .
Aziz Wazoud
from Morocco
