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Articles Archive for August 2008

DIVORCE, family »

[28 Aug 2008 | Comments Off | 0 views]

Jana couldn’t stand it. The way her mother acted, sometimes. It was enough to drive any normal teenage girl up the wall.Jana’s mother seemed to always be hungry for attention since Bo Fawaz left her. From family, from friends, from strangers – she alwa…

LOVE, marriage »

[27 Aug 2008 | Comments Off | 0 views]

Mishari was always so stubborn with his ways.’He’s so difficult! Mashallah 3alaih, rasa shino yabis!’ his wife Nuwair would think to herself while clearing off the dinner table.It was hard being a newly-wed wife. For Nuwair, it was harder being married…

Flan, Stories »

[26 Aug 2008 | Comments Off | 0 views]

I sit in bed, and stare at the wall, night turns into day and day turns into night and I don’t even know it. My shutters are closed and so is my heart. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me, Flan and I really had something good going on. Why did this have to [...]

Everything Else »

[24 Aug 2008 | Comments Off | 0 views]

To F. »

[22 Aug 2008 | Comments Off | 0 views]

It’s just one of those days where you wake up bright and early. Surprisingly, you smile to yourself because you’re secretly saying “Yes, it’s today. The day I’ve been waiting for”.A day in which you enjoy every sip of your coffee and purposely smile to…

BLOGGING »

[20 Aug 2008 | Comments Off | 0 views]

I’m back!I’ve been gone for a while but it doesn’t matter now because I’m back.Anyway, I should start blogging soon but till then ciaooooooo =D- Lino

Flan, Stories »

[13 Aug 2008 | Comments Off | 0 views]

We finally got to a park in Kaifan we parked the car and he took me inside to the swings, sat me down and looked at me with the warmest eyes and said… “The first time I came here the woman I love the most brought me, and this time you’re the woman who brought [...]

Flan, Stories »

[9 Aug 2008 | Comments Off | 0 views]

After all the chaos dealing with getting back to Kuwait here I am sitting in my track pants, my 3abaya hanging on the outside of my closet door. The smell of bukhoor wafting through the air, my dry eyes now yearning for a single tear drop. I sit on my dressing table stool and watch [...]