TRAVELING

A friend once told me about this ritual in Argentina,

Where people get in their cars and travel as far north as they can get.

they stop by small villages on the way, and explore the pristine land,

Some would end up in Venezuela, and in Colombia, the others.

He told me this story as we sat in a small bar in Ramallah.

And I thought to myself, if I were to take a car and do the same

A checkpoint will stop me,

And if I pass the checkpoint,

A border will stop me,

And if I pass the border (miraculously),

I will be stopped by war.

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Categorized as poetry
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By aicha bint yusif

Writing is my key to free spaces. I write to let things out and to chronicle some, and you're more than welcome to read them.

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