The Studio
At noon, the crowd was immense and they were lined up in front of the post office window, eagerly awaiting their salaries. During the wait, they counted their debts, speculated how much of their meagre salaries would be left and discussed their financial predicaments. One woman stood out in the line – her veil barely covering her nose and bulging eyes, as she held out her card in front of me. Her lips seemed to have never smiled before, and it was evident that she had been through some difficult times. Her face was creased and worn from life’s hardships, and she walked away with nothing but a miserable curve on her lips. Meanwhile, the opposite line was filled with a young girl who had rosy lips and a graceful visage. I couldn’t help but imagine her after forty years, when her attractive smile would have faded away due to a long, arduous life.
The passage of time had left its mark on her hair which was now wrinkled and curled. Her lips no longer resembled a rainbow or a crescent of harvest or separation. There were tears scattered across her face and the refractions of her life were no longer like a reflection of light, but rather a reflection of darkness. Life had been cruelled to her, just as a mother may force her child to forgo his favorite drink by using aloe vera to wean him from her teat. In the same way, this woman had to face the dullness and pain of life, with the only conviction being that one day she would have to depart, just like the child who was taken away from the comforting embrace of his mother’s milk.
I could now observe a skilled painter standing before every two lips in the world, applying the final touches to their painting before death could arrive at the zero moment. Oh, what a grand studio we inhabit; with such a talented painter, we do not detect the way he silently applies his colors and lines to our work. I could feel my lips quivering beneath the brush that continued its labor in silence. Then, the postman shouted at me, “Your card!”
No Name No Address – Najat Ba Hakeem – trans. Hatem Al-Shamea
