You remind me of some toxic chemical or maybe the flu. There’s no way anyone can like someone like you. I mean seriously, you spent your time spewing out hate…
Be careful over there! my American friends said to me. As if the Middle East is simply one big mosh pit of danger, mayhem and debris. Be careful doing what? I thought to myself. Choking on lobster, slipping on a marble floor, or poking my eye out with a canape skewer?
Cruising through streets and neighborhoods that we once loved reminiscing as we navigate our way through our own history. It’s about a trip down memory lane and fond memories. It’s about putting your hands on the wheel and feeling something familiar that grounds us to our past. Don’t take it personally, it’s not about you. It’s all about us.
They line up for miles to pick through the debris, of a once glamorous life like you see on TV. The sailboats, the yachts, the bubbly brunches and more; have been carefully chronicled on Facebook galore.
If Martha Stewart would’ve concentrated more on these tid-bits of information versus insider trading, I probably wouldn’t be in the pickle I am in tonight around the Lawrence of Arabia dining room table.
I wouldn’t have married you if it weren’t for that thing. The joke, the smile, the thing that caught my eye. That thing the gave me the idea that maybe you were the one. The one who could hold my interest for a very long time.
Which may sound like a dream to some, yet in reality it is a trade-off for things expats hold dear but gave away for the experience of traveling the world and seeing places and things many only see when they close their eyes.