ّ#In the Shadows of Men

The woman is a special innermost creature. And innermost creatures cannot be discovered by force or by instinct. For the man to know the woman, the woman needs to know herself. Same applies to man, we both are busy knowing the other more than he does himself, and we end up lining expectations and descriptions to the other from us, that are met with disappointments and failures that shock him and make him judge the other with what he sees… not with what he is …

The man loses the woman when he enters to the illusion of knowing her, and the woman loses the man when she exits from the illusion of not knowing him.

Published by nadiaharhash

Exploring my own Shoes ... somehow my walk , my way ... Being a woman is one thing . One important thing of originally two things. However, living in a global patriarchal dominance makes one thing dominant of another . A lifetime struggle of women resilience for being the one thing they are Women . All the resilience of being a woman is another ONE thing . For being a Moslem woman is another thing . Being a Moslem woman living in an Occupied land is definitely a totally other thing. What if you add divorce to this ? Being a Woman, a Moslem , a Palestinian and Divorced … makes the introduction to living in my shoes… Living in a Shoe of a Woman. PS. English is not my first language.. I know I often need to edit , however, there is something in the power of the 'click send' button.. ever since I did it the first time .. I enjoy clicking directly from my heart...unedited...

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2 Comments

  1. The man loses the woman when he enters to the illusion of knowing her, and the woman loses the man when she exits from the illusion of not knowing him.
    True…
    What a bummer!
    🙁
    Well,if one can move on after that….praise be to the lord.

    LoVe Glue
    “Help to understand that when I am broken and cracking up
    You are the glue
    That I can sniff
    And dream upon
    While
    I recuperate”

    An Irish poet.

    SciSsors
    “She had the hair the colour of hay
    And freckles
    And blue eyes
    And lots of pain.

    We didn’t last long together,
    Instead of arms
    We had scissors.
    Nights turned bloody
    As we tried to hug”

    I love poetry….
    enjoy.

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