~ of Tarek Ghaleb

    In the endless, ever-changing, cyberspace, I reside. In a world made
of bits and bytes I chose to build a home. I made it out of nothing
permanent, no rock, no concrete, no steel structures, just words. Here
you might get to know me better. Search me, maybe you will learn who I
am. Maybe you won't. I'll try not to hide anything, not to hold back,
not to censor myself. I will speak my heart and share my feelings and
thoughts with you. Maybe you will do the same, or be inspired to do the
same, with me, or with someone else.

    In cyberspace we meet, you and I. It doesn't matter who you are or
where you are as long as we connect on a server. Just follow a link and
it will take you deeper beneath my skin, if you persist, maybe even
straight into my heart. But remember, you take a risk every time you
follow a link. It will take you from *here* to *there*, or from *there*
to *here*. Is *here* better than *there*? Or was *there* better than
*here*?  Better stay *here* for a while and catch your breath. The
journey is long for the lonely surfer and sometimes you have to stop for
a snack, a drink of water, or, sometimes, for a few words.

    In cyberworld, where words flow across different networks, the
meaning could easily be misconstrued, lost, or distorted. So look
deeper. Watch my words fight for space. Crowded by racing packets of
information, they might lose their way and never reach their intended
destination. They might get corrupted along the way or collide against
other packets traveling in the opposite direction. They might be
reassembled in such a way as to end up meaning something other than what
they were meant to mean. They might even lose their momentum and just
never reach you at all. But such is the nature of words, they are seldom
understood.

    I'm a website, but I have a life of my own. I have a character of my
own.  I'm a living object. I change with time. My webmaster allows me
space to grow, space to express myself. He does not have expectations,
he does not try to shape me into an image preconceived. He does not try
to make me into something that I'm not. He does not try to change me. He
lets me be myself, remain as I am. We accept each other the way we
are. We accept each other's limitations and appreciate each other's
strengths.  He lets me speak my heart and I let him speak his mind. We
are the perfect partners, him and I.

    If you are looking for the truth you can start searching here. If
you want to find the truth you might not find it here. No one knows
where the truth lies. How can we distinguish truth from fiction? And as
for the absolute truth, don't even ask. Like you I'm searching, like you
I'm yearning, like you I want to explore and be explored, like you I
want to share myself with everyone, like you I want to be touched by
everyone. Let's not waste any more time. Come inside, let us start our
journey.

[2002]

Take 2
Me and you
Again
Nothing new
We do
What we do
I say
Some nonsense
You may
Disapprove
We walk
The same circle
Awaiting
A miracle
We lie
On the floor
Nothing more
It's that simple.

[1995]

    We yearn for stillness as much as we yearn for motion. Which touches us
more, the stillness in the motion or the motion in the stillness? Or do
they each touch us in different ways?

    When all is done all is silent, all is still. As still as the roaring
sea with its foaming waves. As still as the winter sky, raindrops
streaming down your windowpane. But still, all is moving: the rusty
damp railings of a banister by the sea in the gentle evening
breeze, the deck chairs on an empty beach drifting away shortly after
sunset, your shadow, washed away by the blinding lights.

    As we move, our steps are imprinted in wet sand. As we disappear out of
sight, our footprints remain, still, though only for a moment. Peace is
in stillness, yet we look for it by moving around. But the questions
remain: what does a tree feel when the wind stops blowing? What does a
shell feel when the tide changes and turns? What does a pond feel
penetrated by a pebble? What does a fire feel after it dies out? What
does your telephone feel after it stops ringing? What does a photograph
feel knowing that it will always remain the same? What does a man and a
woman feel, lying in bed, at the end of the day, with nothing to say to
each other -- when all is moving, when all is still.

[1993]

   Raindrops often collide together. Raindrops often form rivers. Rivers
run full or empty.

   We want the freedom of the raindrops but the security of the
river. We want time alone, yet we need the company of others. We want to
collide, but still remain ourselves; yield, but still dominate; promise,
but yet not be committed; let go, but still possess. In the river we
cease to become raindrops, and as raindrops we long to form a river.

   Couldn't we just be like waves that follow each other across the seas
and the oceans? Or like stars that have their separate places in the
night sky, but still light together? Or like trees with different roots
yet their branches could intertwine? Or should we be like cotton-white
clouds that merge together into a big white monster?

   Hundreds of questions. But raindrops do not ask questions. They do not
decide whether they want to collide or not; a wave doesn't choose the
wave it follows; a star doesn't pick her neighboring star.

[1992]