The (lost) intimacy of everyday life
Under ‘normal’ circumstances, “intimacy” designates a closeness, a proximity, an alignment, a fusion even. Such intimacy is then attributed to two souls, minds, hearts, or bodies.
But there is an other sense of intimacy that I have never noticed this vividly before. It is more profound, yet very subtle. It is only the pandemic + alienation experience that led me to see it like this.
Typically, people politely criticise this online-everything life as being “not the same”. Of course it is not the same when your work, your social life, your love life, your entertainment, travel, and… being are all done behind a screen. But what is actually missing?
📃 “The (lost) intimacy of everyday life”
Spiraling
It’s been two months since I arrived in Utrecht after an abrupt lockdown in Jeddah for 7 months. It was (/is) so surreal to be back here. Suddenly, I was (mentally) sent back in time – the places, the memories, the scents, the scenes… Thoughts I thought I had ‘gotten over’ simply resurrected themselves out of things. Automatic behaviors that I forgot, suddenly were reflexive out of nothing.
عبث غير عبثي
أول ما نفعل مذ ولدنا العبث.
نعبث بأقدامنا أول ما لحظنا وجودها؛ نستكشف أطرافنا.
نعبث بأصواتنا حتى قوّمها أهلنا لغة.
عبثًا زحفنا ثم حبونا نعبث بكل ما تطاله يدانا؛ ترانا نضع حشرة بأفواهنا، عبثًا واستكشافًا.
عبثنا بأقلام فرسمنا بيوتًا ووجوهًا وقصصًا لا يراها غيرنا.
عبثنا بأخشاب فبنينا زوارق ولعب نخلّقها بعقولنا.
فمتى استعصى علينا أن حياتنا عبث بعبث؟
علام يثقل قلوبنا أن نعبث حتى نموت خالقين قصصا وملاحم تخصنا؟
أنى لنا استبدال هبة الإنسان الخالدة، الخلق من عبث، بأساطير غيرنا وقصصهم؟