[0520] The Palace
For this month of May, we present to you the latest instalment of our monthly photo collections series, The Palace, by Youssef Mohamed!
“Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.”― John Donne, The Poems of John Donne (Volume 1).
[ o n e ]
“Sculptures Of My Ancestors: Looking at your sculpted face, I see, the eye bags beneath your eyes and the stoic expression you've held for years I'm amazed, I have to be you've made wonders, it's no surprise and your strong gaze seemed to have conquered all fears. Oh, how fragile and weak I look like beside you just a boring teen that has no clue. You've been gone a long time ago, Yet I remember your victories and I can't let go, For I dream of achieving a fraction of what you did but the hero within me still didn't arise.”
[ t w o ]
“What if I tear this ceiling apart and let my wings fly in the sky will you look at my wings instead of the mess I made? What if I stand in front of the gigantic sun and cast my shadow on this land will you see what I'm bearing to protect you from the scorching sun? (I hope you saw what I did for you) 'Cause maybe you didn't care about the heat blazing my skin till it melted or my wings that were made to hold and protect you but you only focused on the ceiling I ruined, and the windows that are no longer there; cause you liked how gently the sunlight traced your skin and how you stared at the mesmerising ceiling with so many thoughts on your mind. (I'm sorry I disrupted your peaceful state.)”
[ t h r e e ]
“I’m standing in the middle of this room, but it feels like being in the middle of the entire palace. I look around and can’t help but be amazed by all the paintings plastered on the ancient walls surrounding me. my head goes around in 360 degrees until it catches the glimpse of a light reflection on the blue window. so I look up. I look up and get completely mesmerised by the lights hanging above me. I don't know what is it about them that catches me in a trance but I feel like my soul is hanging by a thread. is this a sign? are lights really going to guide my mind home?”
― bluejay.
[ f o u r ]
“Disquiet Satiety This was her last destination. She looked around and discerned how the lights flickered every now and then; bouncing off the shiny walls and into her miserable, tearful eyes. The usual smell of the dusty cretonne of her room was replaced with the smell of something beautiful. All the sorrows of the world fell onto her upon that realization. Her frail body started shaking vigorously, sickened by the terrible illness that was eating away at her facade of a body, its own creator. She thought she hadn’t accomplished much in her life, so this bucket list that she franticly put together was a desperate attempt at finding any sense of achievement in her final days. She’d spent days beforehand, cooped up in her room, losing herself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered inadequate by her lack of words to express them, so she tried again and the bucket list is what she came up with. She knew that this was going to hurt her, physically and emotionally. Her body won’t handle all the going around that’s required and her mind will think of all the what-ifs as if she wasn’t already burdened by the fact that she was going to die in a few days time. Before she made this bucket list, the only thing that kept her going was the fact that when she dies, the sickness would die with her and it made her jubilant for a few seconds. But now that she looks around and notices the very beauty that is capsulated in this place, she was shamefully embarrassed. She hadn’t really lived. She was alone. Not the kind of loneliness that she noticed at first, for she was always hustling and travelling from country to country to meet with her clients. It was only when she fell ill did she notice how really desolate she was. She had no one to help her and she felt like, in some sense, this realization ailed her more than the very illness that took residence in her body. She didn’t live a happy life, but she also didn’t live a joyless one. She didn’t know how well she lived and this made her far more agitated than what was possible that soft sobs escaped her chapped, trembling lips, every few minutes. She promptly continued with her touring of this place, walking around in her sullied shirt and unkempt pants. She was temporarily comforted by the light ambience of the place and the lambent lights that seem to be as excited as the people here. However, the peculiar sentiment of joy kept lurking at the back of her head, pouncing every now and then, devouring any sense of happiness she had left-turning her into a pulp. And so her efforts of redemption seemed futile and pathetic. She was a bit cold now and the drabness of it denied her the comfort that she desperately yearned for. During the final hours of her life, her body would be buzzing with life. A well-deserved death, for she had fought this beast vigorously or so she believed until she thought about her mother and how she always told her to give voice to what she wished to say. She thought she never had anything to say to begin with, but now, lying on her death bed, it felt like she had a lot to say for the first time in her life.”
[ f i v e ]
"A golden room like this one day will be yours, 'cause you are your own king or queen."
― Saksaka.
[ s i x ]
“The Locked Up Princes: The golden paint swirling around the walls making up the perfect designs, did you ever get jealous how everything around you was pretty and your sick twisted black heart is ugly? Some days, I just sit under the red curtains wishing you would just leave my broken record all alone and if only the time I spent was as pretty as this room I have been locked in, I’d give you the cure I carried deep in me to help you flourish again. Who am I? Can’t remember the strings that made me up before I was locked up here, I recently tried to leave but you gotta promise you’d remove every twisted worm inside me, sometimes I just wonder was it my fault I was locked up here? Am I locked up in my self-made misery but I cannot remember giving it immortality! When I burst into flames, I will leave my dust across this window, it’ll help you remember the princess you locked up here.”
[ s e v e n ]
“The portrait envelops most of the scene. It takes all the attention away from the rest of the baggage. It reminds you that the man that was standing was a confident one through his posture and his remarkable outfit that screams rich. If you observe through the rest of the picture you can see the unlighted candles lying next to the portrait while the electric lights above it are turned on, and somehow that gives a slightly ironic sense.”
[ e i g h t ]
“Prison: It shimmers, it glimmers, with gold it’s made, a palace all to myself with the most beautiful gold shade. Walk in and see, in what palace you shall be. But don’t let the outer looks fool you, cause once upon a time I was in your shoe.”
― Silja Fahmy.
[ n i n e ]
“Bluish pieces of art complimented the window screens in front of me. How calming would you've expected a palace to be? A giant, intimidating building, that just so happens to be the home of the most powerful person around, seems to exude the same chilling energy as his portrays. And, just like that, walking through the hallways, climbing up and down the staircase, you can feel his presence as though he's still alive. This is the power of architecture, and this is the power of him.”
― nour sarhan.
[ t e n ]
“To The Person I'm Still Exploring: Dearest, this is to you, to how you gracefully handle the cruel situations, I'm proud of where you're heading, of how far you've progressed, of the path you're choosing, I hope you have faith in yourself as much as I have in you.”
[ e l e v e n ]
“One year has passed
I barely remember the memories
But till now I still wish
I wish I didn't push things to the edge
I wish I was patient enough for you to stay.”[ F I N . ]