For the Arabs in Israel there is always a tension between nationality and identity.
Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless.
We see them oiling their weapons to kill the gryphon they think is hiding in our hen coop. And we cannot help laughing.
Sarcasm helps me overcome the harshness of the reality we live, eases the pain of scars and makes people smile.
We suffer from an incurable malady: Hope.
And I say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.