YOUSEF KHANFAR
JERUSALEM the Shepherdess
JERUSALEM
JERUSALEM the Shepherdess
by Yousef Khanfar
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Dedicated to: All the innocent souls of the camps Entrance without Exit & All the innocent souls of the camps Exit without Entrance
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JERUSALEM The Shepherdess Sometimes Jerusalem is too much Jerusalem.
I come to Jerusalem to be with my amour. I come to dance with her divine spirit. The glow of youth is behind me and the
madness of humankind is still a mystery to me. Deeply troubled by the course of human race, where insanity stretches envelop of reason, I still see under the dome of heavens a world that is barbaric, selfish, and ungrateful. The daily depressing news pierce their claws into the skin of my soul; warfare in countries, outrage of injustice, protests in every language, tyrants crushing freedom, refugees at borders, poverty in corners, and seeds of peace and happiness are tossed to the farthest fringes of the world. And when my simple heart is ravaged and in need of deep virtues, I come to my beloved City to imbibe from her rich wells and wise fountains.
I never let melancholy thoughts drown my optimistic spirit into rivers of misery. Even if they rise and roar against the cliffs
of my soul. Even if they rush along, boiling, roaring through gaps and binds, gliding through the open stretches of my mind. I lace them to my throbbing heart and I journey on a vessel of intense feelings. Then I pass the wide bank of oracles, seize fresh nuggets of wisdom, and keep on living my life as I wish; stop for nothing, take second seat to nobody, be a positive change agent, and allow only smiles pass the edge of my lips.
Mystify by matrix of humanity, I shed all my skins, I address my heart to adventure and take my journey to Jerusalem. As I
prepare for my excursion, people try to force their bias opinion into mine, but I refuse to carry a canvas strongly colored by others. For I never desire to be a connoisseur of only a cause, but a connoisseur of humanity. I want the spirit of this majestic city to seize my being and throw me into the accent cord of humanity. I shall venture into my winding and arduous inner soul exploring the tendrils of life. I need to feel myself by myself. This is a voyage of self-discovery and reflection on humanity through my pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
I travel to Old Jerusalem with balanced air and tabula rasa. I arrive with fresh thoughts and overheated imaginations. Seen
from a distance, my gaze floats over her endless vistas and unfolding hills. Lingers over rooftops of homes and holy places. Hovers about the magnificent minarets and church spires that loom with pride into the sky. The great wall frames the Old City with eight
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gates for access, where Damascus Gate is the most magnificent and busiest. None of the gates carries a female name, except Bab Sitt Miriam Gate, respect for Mary, mother of Jesus. The Old City consist of four vicinities: The Muslim, Jewish, Christian, and Armenian. Behind these walls is a mosaic metropolitan with invisible borders of its neighborhoods; an ancient city full of exciting Oriental bazaars, bustling lives, holy places, native inhabitants, visitors and a domino of stairs upon stairs upon stairs.
In all my fascination, I dream of Jerusalem as a glowing goddess. She comes with all her dazzling beauty and stands only an
olive away from me. She says, I am Lady Jerusalem, welcome to my city. I bring heaven to earth for people to experience. I shepherd them to their own desire account. I shall hover over you and keep you safe. You shall be intoxicated with her divine beauty and find the flowing light of revelation. Roam my city, feel the pulse of her happiness and sadness, but free her from past dust of violence and the gray ashes of clashes. Reveal her truth to your circle of friends. Then gently, she says goodbye to me and fades away beyond the horizon, yet her spirit seeps deep into my heart and blossoms luxuriously.
For you, I shall write my diary every day, an empty page is an empty day. I shall capture images with beauty, what I see with
truth. I shall be an eyewitness to my time. I shall not lie to the truth nor to my conscious. I shall travel from one island of thought to another, with phantom boarders between them. The following words are not for the feeble heart, but for the brave, who want to sail through my turbulence sea of ink. So come, come to the land of inferno and legends, where alleys chase alleys, questions ask questions, massacres invite massacres, souls devour souls, and Gods tussle Gods. Come with me, come to a land where we can walk the liquid streets and pluck poetry off the trees.
In this vibrant city of the Gods, my feet are elated to escort me swiftly, but I tame the seductive streets. First, I see every mortal
soul roaming Jerusalem, then I see the immortal Jerusalem roaming in every soul. I spend my days strolling leisurely about the city. The sheer abundance of her beauty, the traces of her history, and the alluring richness of her narratives overwhelm my eyes. Money does not fashion the spirit and majesty of a city, it takes people with vision, pride, and love for elegance. It takes poets, artists and slow simmering centuries to create charming ambiance. In nowhere else but Jerusalem, my days drop away so delightfully.
The Old ancient Jerusalem dwells next to the New City with its modern architectural design. She pleas for a shield against
modernity to keep the glowing air of past time. The Old City teems with history while the new city teems with merchandise. Some visitors expect to find all of Jerusalem as the Old City, but instead find a contemporary one. Every generation meddles with their inheritance – sometimes damaging it and sometimes enriching it. Many people become outraged by any alterations, for any change it feels as a betrayal to their ancestors, religion or culture.
I walk through Old Jerusalem and see people carrying their heavy burden of life on their faces, where everyone believes their
trouble is the heaviest. People’s tongues are mostly tame. Their voices can sometimes be loud, but drop to a hush as they whisper about other people or politics. Some engage in passionate arguments, which they consider normal conversations, where both sides part ways believing they are right. The intellectual minds walk humbly, yet the empty minds, thrust their head up the sky. For wisdom lives under simple garments, where they keep untapped reservoirs of knowledge and goodness. Old age carries pride and prestige where they receive the red carpet of respect. Some are hunched down tottering on their staffs, carrying painful accounts. Some have harsh faces from the perpetual violent winds of the conflict conditions sweep through this land. Nevertheless, most of the people gracefully continue living, loving, and laughing as if they were the happiest kids in the zodiac.
Wherever one travels in Jerusalem, they sense as if there is a volcano throbbing beneath their feet; like they are walking on
thin crusts above a scorching lava flowing beyond the boiling point which can erupt at any moment, where every fist is ready against another fist. Soon, Jerusalem becomes nothing and everything, stones and bones, misery and victory, skins and skulls, eyes and eyes. Many are Natives and others are not denizens of this City. While many have no desire to live together, alas, everybody must tolerate each other. It is an everlasting living paradox.
The more I travel throughout Jerusalem, the more I hear echoes of painful history; a divine city that once was so ambitious
to be loved by all humankind, now is so humble. For as long as there is life, there will always be Jerusalem, and as long as there is Jerusalem, there will always be jealousies, and as long as there are jealousies, there will always be blood. For envy is blind, and when fueled by the irritation of ideology, it pays no heed to the suffering it brings on itself and the world. In this Holy City, people carry on with counterfeit happiness, where conflict still persists, passion still runs deep, and people remain divided. The gradual slope of
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history connects the past with the present, where darkness once dispelled, only to be born again.
While war belongs to the day and sun, religion belongs to the night and moon. In front of Damascus Gate, I sit on the
stair’s steps observing the throngs of pilgrims and soldiers, two opposite spirits, going in and out through the colossal doors. I cast my vision wide, as the peacock cast wide his tail, and I reflect.
I feel Jerusalem is under occupation, of both military and religion, in which politics is their spouse. The art of politics is to
display the army’s malicious actions with romance and heroism, while command religions to turn up the scorching furnaces of fear. As I travel from the bright light of free nations to the dim light of an occupied nation, my heart trembles and totally rejects it. The notion of colonization exasperates me like burning acid suddenly poured down into my heart.
Politics and religion are two intimate lovers, who intertwine tightly together. If one runs a sword between them, they would
not know who suffer. Religions are resident of this world, and even with all wisdom of heavens, still cannot prevent their political desire to dominate one another. Stand in the midst of each religion, and one will be drenched by divine language and charmed by oracle fire. Yet alas, at any moment, when politics comes along calling for a mischief affair, religion runs out to meet and sins with her lover. Heavens and humanity have no worse enemies than those who adopt religion as means for war and violence. The Holy Scriptures are not miswritten, but often misinterpreted. They seduce hearts of men and women to kill by selecting verses from their holy books to justify their evil actions. They confuse nationalism with religion and grow drunk with power and control. Power inflates ego, where one convinces themselves they have the privilege to do whatever they desire, which bears no relation to their rights. They see people as rivals to plunder and wallow in their own narrow-minded patriotism. They declare war and ruin other people’s lives for the benefit of their own ideology and fortunes. They pretend to perform the work of God, while trampling upon flesh and bones of the human race. They act savagely causing great misfortune for societies and civilizations. Sad to see so few, in the name of God create so much misery, for so many.
I pick up my knapsack and walk through Damascus gate into the Old City. I go through bustling bazaar dodging voices of
merchants calling for business. At the end I see a fork in the road, I take the left path into the Muslims Quarter. After visiting
for many years, one can smell the stench odor of occupation, where unfortunately, the painful voices of colonization hush the charming melodies of the City. I arrive at the Austrian Hospice cafĂŠ, and while I drink my tea, I pour down my ink in one heat.
Colonization is a breeding affair for refugees, separating families, destruction of culture, and loss of a homeland. When one visits
the occupied Holy Land, the injustice and agony of innocent Natives are visible. Every malicious action is written upon the separation wall, where there is a rich mural of art frozen in time, a ledger of charlatans. Upon every section of the apartheid wall is a rapture of boundless life yearning to breathe, yearning to live, yearning to be free.
Every military invasion of the Holy Land is recorded among the unlucky dates of history. Each new regime deceivingly tries to
ally themselves with the Natives as if there could be an alliance between the birds of day and the birds of night. If they cannot form an alliance, the Natives are treated as low class citizens. They are pushed, harassed, jailed, and many are killed. Sadly, the occupation intends to be as a cage in the hope that one day the birds may be happy. Between the pendulum swings of war and peace, there are always tortured and suspended lives, and harmony cannot coexist with a species that preys upon its own kind. In war, you see the best of humans bring out the worst of humans. How ironic, loving a city so much, that one desires, destroying all her Natives.
The Battles of Jerusalem are unsurpassed combat, sponsored by army of politicians and led by comets of war. War is a losing
gamble for everyone involved; nothing but death and destruction, promoted by evil forces of power, fought by the brave, paid for by the cowards, and profited from by the vultures. And sadly, in the loud and deafening din of arms, no one can hear voices of peace. For when War begins to worship itself, it does not cease at shredding the corpus of soldiers like old rags, but also aimlessly, slices flesh of mothers and children, sweeping their bodies and bones down into dark tombs, and if they ever meet in heaven, neither they can recognize each other, nor God can recognize His own children.
I finish writing and start walking about the City. Sometimes, my luck and I, have no luck together. To understand conflicts in the
Holy Land, it seems one travels everywhere and arrives nowhere.
I keep asking, why the table of peace has so many empty chairs? For the less peace accords today is the more funerals tomorrow.
Lasting peace needs people of great capacity and noble hearts whom can compromise fairly and rise above all else. I keep asking these
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questions but what ails me is that there is no hope for answers. The silence leaves me trembling in my heart and exhausted from the rush of blood to my head. Somehow, in my own naivety, I dream of Jerusalem to be like that Spring season, when the sun up in the sky is a fair lady, where she can make day and night equally even, where no one can dominate the other. Nature is Master and everything else is delusion, for Nature maintains the impartiality of balances, in which allows no one species to dominate the others or the world.
Under the gray shadows of colonialism, good and evil are stitched together with fine threads of heaven. And despite the
unbearable living conditions under occupation, the wisdom is not to resist injustice by mirroring injustice, for there is no remedy for hate except more love, where non-violent deeds and creeds are the flowers of diplomacy, that can inspire the vision of the oppressed and oppressor to see the glowing light of diversity, unity and humanity.
I walk to the Jewish Quarter and into court of the Western Wall. I observe Jewish traditions and rituals that have been
around for thousands of years, still being taught and performed today. I sit back and solemnly witness a whole stage of one within many, and many within one.
People are born into made-up Cells, where they get tattooed, from cradle to grave, by their tribe’s tradition, creed and
religion. They have little choice but to submit and live by them. People are sentenced to life to these cells with no chance of parole. Each cell has its own walls, bricks upon bricks of labels, doctrines and prejudices. And as the person grow older, the cell walls grow higher and thicker, where it is difficult to penetrate or jump over them to experience a different world. Each individual becomes more isolated and hardened rarely comes out to visit his fellow human being crouching in nearby den.
Sadly, people gallop through life like race horses, branded by traditions seared to their hides, jockeyed by religion strapped
to their saddles, bounded by ideology blinders to their eyes, and they see nothing, but only their own promised heaven at the finish line. Lash yourself my human comrades, for you have shamefully succeeded in destroying and discriminating among yourselves by using Labels. Pluck Labels off people and be blind to their brand, for Labels are malicious agents that separate human beings from
their own kind. The conflict in the world will not stop, until dividing people stops, and teaching of hate stops. People label people as they do merchandize; they accompany them not for their value, but for what they want from them and their advertised positions. Remember my human comrades, cross-cultural dialogues are the art of ripening humankind, where honest discourse can yeast and leaven the loaf of humanity.
I hear the church bells sounding. I walk to the Christian Quarter where multitudes of souls come to the Church of the
Holy Sepulcher. A river of colorful visitors and pilgrims, from different countries and different dominations, flow into the Church, chanting to their lord.
As years pass by, I feel Jerusalem is drifting from being a Holy City to an entertainment City, where tourism is king. Everyone
comes with either a political agenda or a religious subplot. People market their religion as if it is a merchandize, only desire to sell their views, but never listen to yours. Extravagant events, workshops and celebrations in the name of religion are everywhere, veiled with the great camouflage of politics and money. Depending on the season and event, the stocks of religion or their Holy Prophet goes up and down as the stock market frenzy. And sometimes, just to pocket some money, tourism guides customize the same story, in so many different ways, just to satisfy the different type and origin of pilgrims. Also sometimes, it depends on the tourism guide’s faith or ideology; they tailor the same story to advance only their side of religion, history or tribe.
After a while of visiting in the church, I take a late lunch at the food court nearby. As I travel vast, I still see poverty loom
over the city and the world. I wonder, with so much poverty and hunger in the world, it is hard for me to see people rise from their table on which loads of food still remain, then feed it to mouth of the trash. Poverty does not only wear out people’s fabric, but also wear out nation’s fabric. Generosity and humanity, are the double threads needed to stitch up the garment of poor people’s dignity. Take poverty away from this world, and you take away crime, suffering and most vices. No one ever enjoys engaging in the vocation of poverty, but sometimes people are dragged into it by no faults of their own. No groomed society should accept the torture faces of poverty; for there is no pride in seeing luxury walking by poverty. I question, what happens to all the prayers made in the dim of holy places to abolish poverty, the false promises of legislators, the
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pleading knees and fingers for change, the wishes of holy smoke swinging up to the heavens, and all the coins of good hopes in the bottom of fountains?
I walk through the alleyways and I end up at the Armenian Quarter. I see children sitting on a carpet and a beautiful old lady
telling a story. She tells them epic tales of legends and dynasties. She recounts sweet stories of the dreamy summer nights. She let them elude the terrors in their mind, but never protect herself from the storm of their relentless questions. Storytelling is the currency of Jerusalem, where storytellers transport people from the harsh reality to dreamy world of myth and legends. Storytellers shape the fertile minds with fascination and beauty, which belong to elder world. Some of the stories about the Old City are exquisite, which is fashion with a dash of spices and splendor of the soul. The mind of children is an infinite room of imagination, which has a window innocently accepting anything that passes through it, where they bring to focus and magnify creatively. However, to feed mind of a child hate, violence or discrimination is crime, where no one gets the crown. Though, when violence breaks, that is when the storytellers come alive. Great storytellers are able to fashion an ambiance of solitude and safety, where they shield the children, whom are drenched in anxiety from the gray air of violence, and tell them stories of loveliness that tower above darkness, to inspire and set them free of fear. In the last day of my journey, I start my walk from the Old City up to the Mount of Olives. First, I visit an old cemetery outside Bab Sitt Miriam gate. I see a lady carrying her new born child and standing before a new gravesite, then I wonder, how a child is born to die, and a dead soul is born to live. The mystery cycle of life, where one takes place of another. I feel the wind whistles around and about the edge of tombstones. I look at the cemetery and say to myself, how many famous souls in heaven are unknown in life, and how many famous souls in life are unknown in heaven. Then, as I gaze at the birth and death dates marking on headstones, I realize that we are going to be dead a whole lot longer than alive. And here I am, absorbed in the search of Self and humanity, for which a lifetime is too short. On surface of this earth, we leave prints of our footsteps, where we act our comedy and tragedy of life, with little heed to the world beneath us. A world of souls, whom once loved or despised each other, now sleep in peace, now are dust and ashes mixed together. One must do their good deeds, before they travel underneath. Every step on this earth is to live, love and laugh. Every step is to follow ones dreams, and never be a master nor a slave to anyone. Every step is to fashion delight to the infinite mystery of the world. Every step is to wonder, question and inspire. Every step is to find gold in people and let their talents shine. Every step is to stand up against injustice, corruption and poverty. Every step is to enrich yourself with enjoyment of knowledge and temper the prosaic duties of living. Every step is to stay a child who is clad with imagination and creativity. Every step in life is to advance life for you and humankind. Every step
is to be best of humanity, so someone else can believe in humanity
I continue my walk, kicking stones and torturing my toes. I keep winding my way uphill, allowing my hand to brush against
the ancient stones, which are the only true citizens of Old Jerusalem. Then I find a cosmic sister; an ancient olive tree at the top of Mount of Olives. I lay my head down in her lap, then from above, out of hidden eyes in midst of the leaves, out of their musical beaks, I hear birds pour down their symphonies with the most soothing melodies.
I close my eyes, tilt my head back and I sojourn into a lucid dream. I see four prophets sitting about me; Abraham,
Moses, Jesus, and Mohammad, peace upon them, whom are engaging in charming brotherly discourse, sharing food and laughing together. It seems they are having the best time. These the prophets who placed humanity at the summit. Their voices cascade down, without roar or haste, like a waterfall from a secret divine source, which descend heavy with humanity, thick with love, lush with reason. The mouths that drink from it, flourish in lightness, and the ones do not drink from it, vanish in darkness. These are the prophets, who knew wealth and happiness is not without, but within.
Then soon, we see a young darling girl, glowing breath of beauty, with thick hair yearning for crown, comes up the Mount.
She reaches the top, stands before us, takes a deep breath, and wipes the sweat off her forehead. She is so delicate; she almost speaks the language of butterflies. And while all of our eyes on her, she says: I am Daughter Jerusalem, please come and help. There are no more olive branches. It is time to plant new olive trees, to cloth the Holy Land with peace.
Then I see the four prophets stand up, four souls of bright mist, drape their shoulders with their simple woven garments,
and follow daughter Jerusalem down the mountain. Then I awake to the last notes of the Prophet’s love melody echoing in the far distance. Tomorrow, I might not leave the most lavish garden behind, but I hope to leave finer seeds. Tomorrow, I shall rise with the divine light of heavens, and hope all darkness kneels down behind me. Tomorrow, when I pass away, if my soul never makes it to heaven, I hope it makes it to Jerusalem.
Yousef Khanfar Jerusalem, 1439
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JERUSALEM the Shepherdess IMAGES & MESSAGES
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My Beloved Jerusalem, Should peace ever be granted to you and we meet, You shall my shepherd and I shall be your sheep.
JERUSALEM 25
First, I saw every mortal soul roaming Jerusalem, then, I saw the immortal Jerusalem roaming in every soul.
Damascus Gate - The Old Jerusalem
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Good Morning Jerusalem
Every time I see the sun rise, every time I see rays of light, I see the Supreme Artist at work, and I see the mystery of life unfolding in its entirety and loveliness.
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The Journey
When I am in Jerusalem, I feel like a slab of marble in midst of a gushing river stream, where the currents rush at me, flow around and over me. These currents are wisdom of the ages and thoughts of the pages. They come with hammers and chisels, slowly sculpting my ancient skin, chipping my own stony self, trimming my ego, carving my character, and shaping me to a finer human being.
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Unveiling Jerusalem
Coming to the Old Jerusalem
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The Believers - The Armenian Quarter
The Believers - The Muslim Quarter
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Palestinian Worker Coming to the Old City
Today, I have a basket full of new budding Loves. I plucked them fresh from the lush valleys of the Holy Land, dazzling colors of sweet fragrance. I shall give a million of them to Jerusalem, another million to Nablus, and I shall not forget Haifa, Yafa and Tel Aviv. I shall split three million between Bethlehem and Gaza. And I shall have extra for Ramallah and Jericho. Tomorrow, I shall pluck more budding loves.
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Reading The Morning News
Morning drive through Zion Gate
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Baking Kaaek Bread Early Morning – Palestinian Bakery
Morning Delivery of Kaaek Bread
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The love symphony has no laws and is the perfect accord of two notes. For love, is the highest of all orders, and has no boarders.
Up to the Lovers and Kissing Alley – Palestinian Region
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Brining the Haresa to the Souq
Getting Ready for the Day at the Souq
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Exhibiting at the Souq
Our lives, from birth to death, reflect our days from sunrise to sunset. What is most important is how we use the interval of time, for time is like rain; it has no discriminations, and it showers everyone with the same drops of minutes.
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The Pilgrims
Jerusalem is too passionate for mankind. One must stand back from her divine light, as though apologizing for being unworthy of it. Nowhere else besides Jerusalem do the sun rays weave such a dense net of light and embrace the Holy Land in such a solemn touch. One simply does not navigate Jerusalem; she carries you on her waves, on her gentle currents. Instead of honoring her with our own passion, we are honored to return the passion that she bestowed on us.
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In Jerusalem, Nothing is more glorious than seeing the majestic Western Wall where the Jewish people come to pray and bond with God. A colossal wall stands unshaken where it seems that at any moment a flood of light will gush through the ancient stones. They come as the unbroken race and mostly come fashioned in black and white. They pray in silence, flickering like a wick of an oil lamp, like flame of lantern drawing fuel from their own deep silent region to ignite their passion, burning in a state of humility and longing for a heart of serenity.
The Western Wall
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Church of the Holy Sepulcher
In Jerusalem, Nothing is more glorious than the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the holiest shrine, where Christians end their pilgrimage with their Lord. They carry the heavy burden of the cross upon their shoulders. They feel the painful crown of thorns on their heads. They flinch with every burning lash on their back. And as their soul stands in the midst suspended in holy judgment between crucifixion and resurrection, so is the soul of their Lord. Neither the cross, nor the nails, nor the shroud can banish His love for humanity. Together they march on from here to eternity.
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In Jerusalem, Nothing is more glorious than when suddenly and gently the call for prayer arrives, a divine symphony that soothes and excites, penetrates the hearts of Muslims through the dark night or the daylight. They trust the flame, follow the path and meditate silently. Nothing is more majestic than standing within the Dome of the Rock Mosque, where souls blush at the most charming creation of man, where heaven honors the Mosque and the Mosque honors the Rock. Muslims praying before God is a dynasty of mosaic hearts woven into a single, equal souls, from the simplest of threads.
Dome of the Rock, Arabic Qubbat al-Sakhrah
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Meditating
We are spiritual beings on the inside, human beings on the outside, going through an earthly experience. On the exterior one faces challenges of the world, while on the interior, one faces challenge of the soul. And as ships do not sink from water around them, but from water that seeps inside them, is also the same with humankind.
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The Last Supper – Jesus Journey
Love has thousand eyes but hate has only one. With hate the bright world dies and humanity’s love is done. No war is done without hate, and no peace is done without love; for peace is loved by all and hate is loved by none. The strength is to come holding love and not holding gun. Hate draws a circle to take you out, but love draws a circle to take you in. So let love go meet love and let hate meet no one.
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The Kiss
The Kiss - Jesus Journey
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For the love of liberty, I would rather drink the poisonous hemlock in freedom, than the sweet waters in shackles; for the most lavish heaven in bondage, is hell; and the most savage hell in freedom, is heaven.
Freedom Shadows – Jesus Journey
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Whatever you plant when you are strong, you will eat when you are weak. Nothing lasts forever. The day will come, and time will turn the table on you, then you hope that, if you are kind today, people be kind to you tomorrow, and even if you are cruel today, people forgive you tomorrow.
Jewish Men walking to Pray at the Western Wall 65
Connecting - The Western Wall
Mostly, people are born and die within the same religion. They grow old with a doctrine that professes their faith is the best faith without ever being motivated to explore the beauty of another faith and its people. Remember that, inter-faith dialogue is the art of ripening mankind, where honest discourse can yeast and leaven the humanity loaf.
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Church of The Flagellation – Jesus Journey
Evil can seduce man or woman, but not a noble human who has a mountaintop sincerity in their thought’s leadership. They do not think for you; they only provide a stage for you to think. They do not try to convince you, but instead lead the way to interest you. They are human seers, and as they rise to the summit, also the world rises with them.
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Politics and religion are two intimate lovers, who intertwine tightly together. If one runs a sword between them, they would not know who suffer. Religions are resident of this world, and even with all wisdom of heavens, still cannot prevent their political desire to dominate one another. Stand in the midst of each religion, and one will be drenched by divine language and charmed by oracle fire. Yet alas, at any moment, when politics comes along calling for a mischief affair, religion runs out to meet and sins with her lover.
Way of the Cross - Via Dolorosa - Jesus Journey
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Sad to see, the same people who reject trash throwing into their own homes, are the ones who allow media throw trash into their own minds.
The Gaze 73
Contemplating – The Prophet David Region
Searching - Court of Church of the Holy Sepulcher
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I feel the wind whistles about the edge of tombstones. I look at the cemetery and say to myself, how many famous souls in life are unknown in heaven, and how many unknown souls in life are famous in heaven. Then, as I gaze at the birth and death dates marking on headstones, I realize that we are going to be dead a whole lot longer than alive. And here I am, absorbed in the search of Self and humanity, for which a lifetime is too short.
Kissing the Holy Book
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Jerusalem is the land of inferno and legends, where alleys chase alleys, questions ask questions, mascaras invite mascaras, souls devour souls, and Gods tussle Gods.
The Seventh Station - Jesus Journey
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Russian Pilgrims at Church of St Alexander Nevsky
Romanian Pilgrim Meditating at Church of St Alexander Nevsky 81
Every time you push people into a corner, they become stronger
Up to Golgotha – Up to the Crucifixion - Jesus Journey
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I love the black color, I love the white color, and I love when they are mixed together
Al Habash
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The Gathering to Pray – Al Habash Region
Praying Time – Al Habash Region
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The Blessing – Al Habash Region
Remember not, the awful harms of humankind at their worst, but the noble deeds of humankind at their best
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Coming to Pray – Al Aqsa Mosque
Concluding Prayers – Al Aqsa Mosque
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One must become more human, when others become less human.
Muslims Praying Al Aqsa Mosque 93
Humankind will be saved by love. I dream of a civilized world, where I love not to have hate, and I hate not to have love.
The Crucifixion at Golgotha - Indian Pilgrims – Jesus Journey
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I respect Silence, but not at the time of injustice and violence.
Japanese Pilgrims
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The Holy Scriptures are not miswritten, but more often are misinterpreted. For nothing upsets the heavens than the people who turn the holy verses into unholy purpose. Nothing more dangerous than a nation that welds both religion and government together, where a single faith demands to be saluted. And nothing more shameful than a national movement, that is full of hatred, to take their majestic religion down into the abyss of barbarism.
Death and Descent from the Cross – Jesus Journey
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The Gap - Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Stone of Anointing - Church of the Holy Sepulcher
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Sadly, in the loud and deafening din of arm dealers, no one can hear voices of peace. When War begins to worship itself, it does not cease at shredding the flesh of soldiers like old rags, but also aimlessly slices flesh of mothers and children, sweeping their bodies and bones down into dark tombs, and if they ever meet in heaven, neither can they recognize each other, nor God can recognize his own children.
Praying - The Western Wall
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I keep asking, why table of peace has so many empty chairs? The less peace accords today, the more funerals tomorrow. Where is the people with great capacity and noble hearts whom have the courage to rise above all else for true peace accord?
Communal Jewish Worship
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The Teaching – Dome of the Rock Mosque
People are born into made-up Cell, where they get tattooed by their tribe from cradle to grave. They have no choice but to adjust and submit. Without their consent, people are born into this life, into family, religion, origin, color, race, culture, traditions, customs, and alike. Each cell has its own walls of doctrines and prejudices. And as humans grow older, the walls of these cells grow higher and higher, thicker and thicker, where they become hard to penetrate or jump over them to see a different type of world. Each human becomes isolated and hardened, but goes on living like a king in their own home, in their own made up cell, and alas, rarely comes out to visit his fellow human being crouching in nearby den.
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Turkish Pilgrims - Dome of the Rock Mosque
Native language is pride of the Nation. When the native language vanishes, also her nation banishes. Native language is our second skin; elastic for adventure, deep for wisdom, proud for culture, tough for heroes, dazzling for poetry and sensual for love.
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Waiting to enter Jesus Tomb – Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Jesus’s Tomb Entrance – Church of the Holy Sepulcher
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Jesus’s Tomb – Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Occasionally I find myself linger amid tomb stones under the heavenly blue sky in one of the inviting and charming cemeteries. Though crowded but silent, I stand humble at the memorial ground that seems to be the most poetic city within a city. A votive sanctuary in midst of life and the livings, full of ivory homes crowned with ebony dates and names. I listen to the soft breeze breath through the ancient mausoleum and I wonder, how the life journey of these restful sleepers, carried them from one loving womb to another loving womb, greeting and parting, all the greatness and madness of the world.
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I respect all religions, but I also respect wisdom and sound minds that are not blinded by them.
Rainbow of Pilgrims Court of Church of the Holy Sepulcher 115
Humans are fertile souls, alas they are used and abused; for the media thinks for them, movies feel for them, technology separate them, holy places terrify them, department stores dress them, and governments mold them, while they still remain limp and unresisting. Wake up humans, invisible darts are aiming at you.
The Ball
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When one takes ethnic cleansing, checkpoints, illegal settlement, apartheid regime, kidnapping children, separating families, collective punishments and alike, then grind them all up into a frying pan over a raging political fire, one will get Colonialism. For Colonialism does not symbolizes a single evil vice, it symbolizes all of vices.
The Spices
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The Drums and Rhythms of The African Palestinians
Never concern yourself with life’s fancy ornaments, which are designed to be fleeting fads, such things do not suite the noble life you celebrate. Go to the mountains and learn, then down to the valleys and teach, and throughout your journey, follow your passion and discover how to laugh, and laugh, and laugh out loud.
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Palestinian Traditional Dress - African Palestinian Lady
African Palestinian Youth
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Look closely at all the hard-working people. One can see the glisten of the murky sweat of laborers no longer resembles the pure rain. It is always on backs of the weak, the poor, and humble laborers that the powerful and greedy cast themselves and climb to the front seats of life. How is it that the laborers, who are mostly the only useful beings and devoted in the nation, work the most and gain the least? They wear their fingers to the bones, while their eyelids are heavy and red, but they still come for miserable starvation wages, while their superiors refuse even to socialize with them.
The Threads – The Jewish Quarter
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Praying alone - The Western Wall
Praying alone - Dome of the Rock Mosque
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Praying alone - Abbey of the Dormition
Praying Alone
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Palestinian Muslim Ladies praying at Dome of the Rock Mosque
Be best of humanity, so someone can believe in humanity. For God is one, and Humanity is His prophet.
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Dome of the Rock
The Divine Design of Dome of the Rock Mosque
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Chinese Muslims Meditating below the Rock - Dome of the Rock Mosque
Forgiveness! Forgiveness! Forgiveness! More and more is the master deed and what we need. A heart without forgiveness is a grave yard. It is the hardest for a blind mind, and the easiest for an open heart. The troubled heart will always call for avenge, and the painful past will fuel revenge. Without forgiveness, one forever roast over burning fires while madness reigns. For the ones who can change hate, they also can change course of history.
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Do not come and tell me you are Jewish. Do not come and tell me you are Christian. Do not come and tell me you are Muslim. Do not even come and tell me your Just come and tell me only one thing. Come and tell me that you are Human. Tell me everything you do is for humanity. For humanity is master, and everything else is delusion.
Hurva Synagogue – The Jewish Quarter
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The Teaching - The Western Wall
The Torah Scrolls - The Western Wall
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When the soul craves to write; when you lay in a realm of intense feelings, drenched with vulnerable flames, you seek the pen and papers. In these private moments, the busy world descends into solitude; where silence is best writing season and time is best living editor. Then the burden of your soul starts to unfold, and the tongue of your pen gives birth to words, where the new born trail with wet thoughts, glisten for brief liquid moments, leaving behind a dry mix of blood and ink, where the umbilical cord is to never part.
Roaming Souls
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Tear yourself from your comfort Self and sing the humble sorrows of others; own them and brand them upon your skin.
The Merchants - The Christian Region
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Revolution, is when a myriad of eyes unite to see a brighter future as a single vision.
Palestinian Kashafa Palm Sunday 145
Palestinian Christians Entering St. Anne Church on Palm Sunday
Palm Sunday
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Life is too short to achieve everything, and not long enough to love everybody. Thus, every person who crosses my path in life, I cherish them as a precious gift. And if I can love all my fellowman equally, then I shall never fear them, for Love cast out all fears.
Washing the Feet - Ecce Homo Convent
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Extremism is born out of every faith and race, but to paint the entire faith or race with the same broad brush, is also extremism.
The Communion - Ecce Homo Convent
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A day will come, when you look in the mirror, eye to eye, and recognize a power inside you that no longer can remain suppressed. Time for forgiveness, is the time when you can give kindness to somebody for whom the world growing cold to. At that moment, you will feel a unique trust in your heart, when you can admit a rival into your sanctuary, where you thought that only you could be in it alone. Forgiveness is a divine act, only is found in the registry of Heavens.
Blessing the Bread - The Coptic Church
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Falafel – The Authentic Palestinian Cuisine
Palestinian Dessert
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No class has been used and abused more than the working class by their superiors. Here are the victims of the advanced civilization, the joyless world of commercial society, where they exploit poor workers, which upon their back-breaking toil all the new wealth is built. The working class only builds wealth for others, with deep lines of labor cut into their faces. Yet, still they are robbed of their pay check by a single purchase for their family. In the meantime, they enjoy nothing but the free natural air and sun light. Life for the working class is only endured but never celebrated.
Shish Kabab - Authentic Palestinian Cuisine
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Passing the Holy Fire on Easter
Holy Fire - Easter
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Easter Holy Fire Ceremony - Al Habash Region
We need human passionate people, to build human passionate nations, to live in human passionate civilizations.
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Palestinian Musician
Jewish Musician
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The Palestinian Dabka
All human thoughts lie before your eyes. All human madness and greatness are inscribed by the pen. The pen inhale darkness and exhale lightness. Pens are an army of free minds; they are silent when you hold them, and speak when you walk them.
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Enlighten the Darkness – Virgin Mary’s Tomb
Tomb of Virgin Mary
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No city, no country, and no nation, can live in peace and harmony, when the guns and tyranny, are too much the master.
Pride and Prejudice
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Out of Place
Check Point
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It is not freedom that moves us, but the power in freedom.
Caged 173
There are tender souls that come and roam among us. Humble seers whom dwell upon the earth for a short time. They touch us deeply and call us friends. They hope for everything and they fear nothing. And when we come face to face, with our darkest days, we wish our paths cross with their immortal voices, that dipped in truth and light; words that manifest in every utterance, language that burns in every breath, in the hope their atoms of thought, ignite flames within our hearts, and with their nobility and marvel wisdom, unveil each human to human, and each human to their self.
Searching for Precious Stones – Italian healing Ladies
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The Gathering
500th Anniversary of Martin Luther’s Reformation – Church of the Redeemer
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Lash yourself my human comrades, for you have shamefully succeeded in destroying and discriminating among yourselves by Labels. Pluck Labels off people and be blind to their brand, For Labels are malicious agents, that separate people from their own kind.
Hell and Heaven
179
It is better to be united and not have a mission, than have a mission and not be united
United
181
I would rather be a lion eat with my own hands, than be a butterfly depends on charity of the flowers.
Ramadan Eid Prayer - Al Aqsa Mosque
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The Game
The Frustration
185
It is not that mankind fond of war, they are simply unfaithful to peace.
Quarter of the Leader Salah Al-Deen Al-Ayoube
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The Confession - Church of All Nations
Church of All Nations
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Jewish Family Enjoying the City
So, let us fathom more, even if it is not a pleasant one to contemplate. Let us ask the people who hold the power Today; if the table were to turn around on them, and the opposite side holds the mighty power while they hold none, then the question to them is, how would they like to be treated now by the opposite side, or another question, would they like to be treated as they are treating the opposite side now.
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One of the best enlightenments, is to trade places with one’s rival. For it yield the most profit of understanding and moves the heart to tip of the tongue. When this exchange occurs, one can feel with their rival and better comprehend their culture, race and pain. The thirst for revenge of yesterday, becomes the tamed of today, and the remorse of tomorrow.
Bar Mitzvah - A Jewish coming of age ritual for boys
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Earthquake Split Rock of Calvary - Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Deliverance from the past shall free us to fly. For many people and nations, are held back from advancement by hands of their ancestors decaying corpses. People clash because they continue to be bullied by old doctrines, old traditions, old religious convictions, where these inherited dead hands, keep pushing them to quarrel over old grievances and animosities that destroy the chance for advancement.
195
And a gentle breeze comes sashaying before me, bringing dazzling fragrances, intoxicate my soul and heighten all my senses, and I ask the breeze, why are you so full of sweet wisdom today? And the breeze replies, this time I came through a ripen pasture and I was in the company of lucid roses.
The Divine Light The Armenian Quarter 197
Armenian Praying – Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Armenian Procession – Church of the Holy Sepulcher
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The Armenians
Artists are epic of the world, for they create with beauty what they see with truth. Artists born from daring seeds to grow into blossoming trees. Their roots venture down deep into the dark and cold to cultivate their imagination. They create an art of passion, that they are the only one can fashion. They welcome anguish, sweet suspension, and let their roots be watered, even from their own tears. For they confront challenges face to face, and sometimes they fall down like a devoted soldier upon a chess-board.
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Moving Jesus
Immortality loves a company and is always looking for a legend. And as it takes an irritation to make a fine pearl, it also takes an irritation to make a fine hero.
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Palestinian Keys of the Nakba - The Right to Return
The only cure for the occupied and exiled, is free homeland.
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The Palestinians People – Right to Return
The Jewish People – Right to Return
207
Bashful and Shy – The Children
Praying for Peace – The Children
209
As I age, I hope to mature to be a child.
The Children
211
I would rather build class rooms for the girls and boys, than build war rooms for the women and men.
The Train near Jafa Gate
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The wheel – Going Home
End of the Day - Going Home
215
People sadly grow old in life through their mundane repetition and lack of passion for something they believe in. There is great delight in embracing aging by traveling gracefully beyond the physical beauty. Aging is the way life is, but there is more. The art of aging is discovering that more.
End of the Day
217
As I walk through streets of Jerusalem, suddenly my childhood is born again when I hear laughter of children that tickle my heart. A delightful blend of melodies seep into my soul, blissful notes of happiness fill the air, innocent laughter that hold and kiss one another, dance away into the dusk for a moment, swing then slide back again to chuckle playfully, embrace and melt into a single musical symphony, and dissolve into the ecstasy of Childhood Heaven.
Last Rays of Light
219
Let us not share with them challenges of tomorrow, but interest them in the immense love, passion and dreams of life and the livings.
Blessing over Flames of Havdalah – The Western Wall 221
The true magic of Jerusalem is in her velvet night. When curtains of dusk come down to silence roar of the boulevards and hum of the crowds. Strewn stares with bright lights twinkle up in her dusky sky. Then one can hear the Old City breathe tenderly. One can hear her soul whisper to our souls. One can deeply feel under the dim glow of lights, a charming encounter by wandering through the cobblestone pathways, touch the silken walls, sense the stillness of the nocturnal, and breath her alluring aroma. Sometimes, one can see shadows of spirits whose are still awake behind shimmering golden windows, standing before flames of candles quivering in the air, in what seems to be a sleeping city, yet, one eye still awakes.
River of Divine – Al Aqsa Mosque
223
End of the Day - Closing Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Collecting the Candles
225
Lay a rose, not only on the graves of soldiers, but also on the graves of every soul they have killed, for they all come from the same human family, and they all breath no more.
Palestinian Muslim, Custodian of the keys, closing Church of the Holy Sepulcher
227
Velvet Night
And to you my beloved Jerusalem, before I resign myself from this earth, I wish to pay my final debt of admiration to your spirit, for I owe you so much of my joy. Grow strong my beloved, that you may stand tall when I fall; that I may tell my heart, we shall always have democracy; that I might tell my eyes, we shall lead children out of poverty; that I may tell my lips, we shall sing the truth with dignity; that I may tell my hands, we shall build bridges of humanity; that I may tell my feet, we shall march together peacefully; that I may tell my sweetheart, we shall fly side by side equally; that I may tell my soul, we shall be an eternal flame, for the living, for the unborn, and for the love of liberty.
229
Under the gray shadows of colonialism, good and evil are stitched together with fine threads of heaven. And despite the unbearable living conditions under occupation, the wisdom is not to resist injustice by mirroring injustice, for there is no remedy for hate except more love, where nonviolent deeds and creeds are the flowers of diplomacy, that can inspire the vision of the oppressed and oppressor to see the glowing light of diversity, unity and humanity.
Time of Turbulence
231
Into Another World
Tomorrow, I might not leave the most lavish garden behind, but I hope to leave finer seeds. Tomorrow, I shall rise up to the divine light of dawn, and hope all darkness kneels down behind me. Tomorrow, when I pass away, if my soul never makes it to heaven, I hope it makes it to Jerusalem.
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Acknowledgments
235
Acknowledgments
Artist Statement
237
Photography technical notes
Printed by designed by etc
239
I dare you to go to sleep my beloved Jerusalem, for I see the devil combing his tail.
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