Dr. Mind’ s Preview

I was imaging how life would be without me. I wasn’t irreplaceable. Someone else would replace my work position; my friends would have new friends; even my husband could get a new wife. Most of the other people won’t even care. My death would just be news to them, something taking a few minutes of their time. Yet when I thought about my own children and my family my heart was torn apart. It was an unbearable pain. I spent a lot of time closed in my room, and cried as much as my body would bear.

I started to feel physical pains, real pains all over my body. My energy went down. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t eat. I was witnessing how my internal organs were decaying. So I spent most of the time lying and feeling sorry for myself. It was over. I was lying there on my deathbed. My sense of victimhood became worse and worse. I couldn’t even do my housework. I remember my young nieces came and did the housework for me. My house was full of bad energy; we could hardly speak to each other. My boys thought I was suffering from flu, so they were patient when they saw me in that awful condition. The older son was much more aware of my situation and he ignored me all of the time. It looked like he hated me for being ill. The younger one, being just a toddler, would come to me, kiss me, hug me and give me that divine smile as though he were trying to tell me something, as though he knew everything was going to be well. On the other hand, my husband never gave up. All night he read different articles about my disease and, while taking care of me, he would tell me a thing or two. But I kept ignoring it, I didn’t want to know or learn.

Review of “Let me have my say” by Rima Jbara

It would have been so wrong if I rated this reading, rating is wrong overall. Stars and numbers can not define the true feelings one captures during the reading. It is so wrong.

Let me have my say, is a very, very unique writing work and it came to me in the right time, I needed a break from the random readings, and it really fed my void.

Maybe unique is not the right word to describe it, although I use it earlier, maybe there is no word that can totally match the image of this writing piece, for the reason that this is not a novel, nor a play, neither a long poem, it is not even monologue or dialogue, there is no literary term for this piece of writing, but most importantly is that there was no plot, no time period, neither seasons, months, years or days, there was no place either, no city, no country, no region. There were some characters, but no main ones and they had no gender, no color, no nationality, no physical appearance, and no voice.

This is why Unique is not the word, it is much more than that. It is cosmic. The only thing I could see was a Soul.

For me it was an exceptional understanding looking directly at ones soul, talking to it, hearing it and learning a lot of truths and we lack experiences like this. We see no souls because we are blinded by the appearances and judgments.

If you are in search of reading something very extraordanary and real, Get it here.

“Life”a novella, PART I Sergey Volgov—the man who fought poverty.

Editor’s Note: “How could you live and have no story to tell?” wrote Dostoevsky in his short story, “White Nights.” Life is about the stories we live and tell, and the three interrelated stories in this intriguing novella by Albanian writer Burbuqe Raufi, are no exception. We present these three stories of “Life” – Sergey Volgov, Angela Miller and Samuel Blanc.

Click here to read.

The old, the young, and me.



Lately I feel like I have been possessed by an old lady. She had entered my body, my mind and my soul. She is now the pilot of my aircraft, of me.

Never invited such an occurrence; or neither participated in any kind of a witchcraft ritual, she came naturally and stays naturally. And how do I feel?

The old lady is here, in me, all the time, she had taken the control. Plus I live by her rules now.

First time I noticed her presence, in me, it was when she wouldn’t let me sleep, no matter how much I tried, she would use her powers and open my eyes. It was useless to persist, as she taught me what stubborn really is. Damn, she is way to bloody-minded, even though she wakes me up early she makes me enjoy it, silly right?

She puts her eyes into mine and makes me look things I have never seen, and those are beautiful, like the sunrise, or the drops of the rain.  She makes me stare around and be aware of the occurrences while having a herb tea, yeah, a tea.

Since she is here, in me, she won’t let me drink coffee, she had convinced me that coffee is not healthy; it has to do with the high blood pressure and digestion, or some other theories of her. And I struggle between what is good and what is right. Both needed,

On the other hand, somewhere deep in me there is also a young girl living in me. She needs to sleep, she needs her coffee and she needs that mirror and her time. She needs to look good, she needs hours to put her make up and do her hair, and moisture her body with scents and powders. She needs to be seen. But the old lady would grab me and push me toward the kitchen.

She is already hungry.

Hmm, now she makes me eat every three hours, and yet I have no strengths, that food makes me lie down, or take a ten minutes nap and when I wake up I figure it out how much I missed from the day, the young girl jumps up to meet her friends and observe every little detail of them, their hair, their shoes, their clothes, their bag, their way of speaking the sentences in order to copy and be IN.

At the same time as the old lady will scold me and grab me to the grocery store, all she cares is food, especially the fruit and vegetable section, and after she is done she makes me spent an hour at the park, forcing me to glance the sky, and feed the birds, give compliments to children and avoid the rest.

Every time I am sick and tired of her ways of spending time, I get angry and call the young one, for help. And we make plans together, watching a movie, or attend our friend’s birthday party, or just hanging on a bar with a martini. But, when I am just about to get out, the old lady will create a terrible pain of my bones, my shoulders, my abdomen…sometimes I am breathless and I need to lie down and take a pain killer. And that is how my plans end up.

Being aware of my organs and their disabled function.

These two women are in constant battle and I am there in the middle, they both use me as a rope stretching it toward themselves.

Stop. It’s enough. I am not fond of none of you. Too tired to be young, too proud to be old.

However, who am I? Am I the present battling the past and the future. The nonexistent me’s.

One thing I am sure, I don’t like the young one, she is so naive, she would do everything is told, and I don’t like the old one either, she is so stubborn, her words, her rules. But, the truth is they are both ghosts, one is telling me what I no longer want to be, the other is warning me what I could be.

Do I have a choice? Where I was, is gone, where I am headed sounds terrible, but it feels right. The older I get, more aware I am.


A professional book review for The Tavern


By a professional book reviewer for Simon and Schuster & Hachette Books.

5/5 stars

A near-death experience while giving birth to her first child sets the tone for “The Tavern” as Nina Simone struggles to find her freedom as she searches the world for answers of the nothingness she longs to feel again.

Through a poetic tone of voice, the description was captivating to read and made me feel as if I was there myself. The way Nina talks is the way I believe, every woman to think, she has a right to be herself and will do as she pleases.

“Dear, I know it might sound like madness to you, but the moment that death separated me from the life was the most beautiful feeling the nothingness that I’ve ever experienced.”

I personally loved how fast paced the book was, a great beginning, loved the plot and I dug right into the problems at hand with no problem. Nina lost and gained so much in so little time, it’s gives a sense of reality as this could happen to anyone.

Extremely satisfying to read and beautifully written.

Original link