The politics of my name

Here is my (micro) identity crisis…

Crisis I: My name is supposed to be pronounced “Brook” (ብሩክ) but for some weird reason it was always written in English as “biruk” (ቢሩክ) in all my official documents. This didn’t matter when I lived in ET but living abroad means that I have to explain this nuance to almost everyone I know (literally), when they get to see how my name is spelled 🙂

Crisis II: This hurdle began when I applied for my passport for the first time some years ago, when some pen pusher at the immigration office decided to put in the wrong birthday. Back in those days getting an ET passport was a hustle and deciding to change it was going to be a bureaucratic nightmare. So I went on and did all my collage application with the wrong birthday. From then on I am 10 days older in all my official documents and I get more “happy birthday” emails on my fake birthday than on the real one 🙂 ..

Crisis III: This is again caused by the policy of the immigration office. Since we don’t have the last name system in Ethiopia, when I applied for my passport, my grandfather’s name became my last name. But not only that, the same office deiced to join my name and my father’s name into a one long first name. Oh, how many times I had to correct people when they struggled to call me with this long ass name (In the wise words of Bill Burr, “It’s brutal ” 🙂 ). This last name thing also means that I have to be called after my grandfather whom I have never met and who really didn’t have to do anything with my upbringing. It has been many years and I still can’t get used to being called with this last name, it sort of feels like being identified with a token or something like a prison id 🙂

Crisis IV: This one is just a self inflicted. Inspired by the story of some engineer, who legally changed his name to small letters, I sign my name on emails as biRuk. So the other week I received an official email which started as Dear Mr biRuk 🙂…So I am this person whose name has been spelt wrong throughout my life, who also has the predicament of being called after my grandfather, whom I have never met and to put the icing on the cake, I also have to confuse between two birth dates…

Could this be labeled as a micro identity crisis ? 🙂

እንደዚህ አይነት ትግል ነው የገጠመን 🙂

It’s the quality of the question, stupid

It was in the early evening of one of those mid July Tuesdays, after roaming around for hours on end, that I finally decided to rest and reflect on my day while seeping a cold lager, at one of my favorite joints in one of my favorite corners of New York city: the famous McDougal street. This street, including the neighborhood, which is called Greenwich village, is one of the most fascinating and historically significant street I have ever been in my life and I will write about it in a different blog post, but now back to my story. Not long after I sat, the table next to me was occupied by four gentlemen, out of whom the three I immediately recognized. As it turns out, I was sitting a few feet from the famous standup comedians Dave Attell, Keith Robinson and Jim Norton. I consider myself a huge standup comedy buff and I watch quite a lot standup clips everyday and funnily enough, I was even watching a YouTube video featuring Norton and Attell just minutes before they came and sat next to me. Don’t you find these kinds of situations very weird ? This is probably why New York is the greatest city in the world. As much as I wanted to exchange a few words with these chaps and perhaps take a selfie with them, I couldn’t, due to the obvious covid scare. How many things can we lose due to this pandemic by the way ? Anyways, this post is not a rant about the pandemic or about the missed opportunities for a selfie with some comedians but it was born out of a reflection after very short conversation with the manager of the bar (this bar happened to be the famous NY comedy cellar) where I was at.

On my way out after paying, I met Liz, who manages the comedy cellar. As I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to ask her about the cellar, I blurted the first unfiltered thing on my mind:

me (geekishly): So when are you guys going to start comedy shows ?

Liz (detachedly and not even looking at me): Governor Cuomo hasn’t been telling me anything so I don’t know. (then walks away while grabbing some chairs)

As she didn’t seem keen for further engagement, I simply walked out. But while walking to the train station, I couldn’t but be bothered by her attitude in responding my question. My immediate thought sounded more like “after all, the X amount of $ I haven’t I spent in the establishment, though it might not get me an answer for my question, it should at least protect me from a cold shoulder treatment right ?”  Dear reader, I can imagine that you’re starting to feel a bit uneasy from the level of ego and sense of entitlement packed into my immediate reaction about the failed communication. At this point, I don’t even blame you if you might also have dropped a “who the f*** does this guy think he is “. So what was the problem that took our brief communication off the rails or better yet, what would have it taken to make our brief interaction a bit more satisfactory or at least didn’t end in resentment from one side ?  I argue that it all had to do with the quality of my question.

While waiting the D train, to go to uptown Manhattan, where I live, I couldn’t help but put myself in Liz’s shoes and reflect on the situation. How many times had she faced a similar question, everyday, in the past couple of weeks during the pandemic ? I would guess she had been asked this mindless question enough times to be frustrated enough into spewing a mindless automated reply. In fact, under such a time, where businesses are uncertain about their future and the continuance of their survival, my mindless question could have  added to her anxiety. Okay, before this starts to sound a prologue to communication seminar, I will get to my point. Splicing our brief interaction and wondering how our brief interaction could have been improved led me to one place: the quality of the question.

I could have asked a slightly better question or I could have simply framed my question in a different way such as:

  • Are you guys thinking of some outdoor shows somewhere in the city
  • Are you planning of partnering in anyone of those outdoor activities “
  • If indoor crowds are allowed tomorrow, how would you guys safely manage things

The quality of our lives can be correlated to the quality of the problems we try to solve everyday and daring to solve any problem starts with asking questions. Hence, by the transitive law, the quality of our lives is also correlated to the quality of questions we tend to pose in each day. In fact, out of the few things I learned in the first year of graduate school, the one that strikes me the most is how in research a good questions might even be more important than their answers. Sure, finding an answer for a mediocre question can get you publish a paper in a conference but a good question can have an enormous impact on your field of study or can just totally revolutionize it. As a matter of fact, in the entire human history, countless things have taken place as a result of good question but perhaps, one that stands out the most is a question following a falling apple in the garden of Isaac Newton. That question alone eventually led to the discovery of the theory of gravity, the three laws of motion and calculus (Isaac really knows how to take it easy huh 🙂 ).

But I must point out that, good questions don’t just come out of no where. It is highly unlikely that we wake up some day endowed with the astuteness to ask great questions. Like most things in life, asking good questions is a skill that is achieved by training the mind to be alert and developing keen observation skills. These are also mental qualities that are related to mindfulness.

So dear reader, if I managed to convince you that pursuing answers for good questions can improve your life, why don’t you start from now by carefully looking at your life, your surrounding and start asking one ? As for me, I have already found the great question for the day: “What am I doing still writing this blog and conversing with an imaginary reader this late into the night, when I have a conference call tomorrow at 9 am ” ?

Resolution for 2020: Salad, Situps and Scrupulousness

It was on the Christmas night of 2019 in Berlin, while having a chat over drinks with my best friend, in one of the Bars in Friedrichshain, that I came up with this resolution. This friend of mine and I met in our late teens at Uni and it didn’t last long before realizing the friendship was there to last. I don’t know about you dear reader of this blog post, but I tend to have good personal relationship with people with great and usually self-deprecating sense of humor. The amount of inside jokes between this friend and I is innumerable that we can spend hours and hours exchanging banters, roasting each other, make parody of past events etc… So it was in this same spirit of hilariousness that I came up with this resolution that night. The resolutions had to respect two simple rules: They needed to be composed of only one word (can also be a compounding of two or more words) and they must all start with the same letter.

I made a quick headcount of the things I have been meaning to do but was not able to. I have been pulling a lot of long nights (and sometimes even a couple of all nighters) in the lab lately and long night in the lab means ordering takeout food every time, which isn’t exactly healthy. Granted I live in the “good food capital of the world”, and there is a very good chance even the food you get from a modest takeout joint might not be worse by far from the food you get from a proper restaurant but however good, 3 Pizzas a week is too much. I haven’t been eating right and if I have to chose a single word to codify my desire to get over this terrible habit in the new year, it would be Salad. That’s right, no better word can represent eating right than a fucking “Salad” :). I have also not been working out lately (again all due to being in the lab even in the ungodly hours of the day) so a proper single word that means working out and starts with S would be Sit-ups (Granted I could have thought a better word but I told you I already had a couple of long-islands in me right ? so fuck off ? 🙂 ). 

Last but not least I have been meaning to improve the quality of my attention to some of the things I work on my spare time. I believe having a hobby is good for the mind and generally improves the quality of your life (plus if you happen to be good at something the ladies happen to like, it might get you laid often, what do you know 🙂 ). For example, I want to do my drumming as well as my weekend electronic design projects with an extra diligence and more organization. So what is that word which starts with S and which correctly represents this extra meticulousness that I am trying to bring to some of my crafts? Scrupulousness. (let me guess, right now, you’re thinking ” There is not way this fucking guy kept up with his Oxfordian level of vocabulary even after being this hammered? “. And you’re right, I had to google an S word to represent this resolution the next day, hangover on my friend’s couch 🙂 .) 

So this year I am aiming for Salad, Sit-ups and Scrupulousness. What are you shooting for this year ?

EDIT: The resolution is now updated with “staying-safe” due to the looming threat of the Corona virus 🙂

Bus missed: Lesson learned

I started my morning with an utter irritation caused due to missing an inter-city bus which was supposed to take me to an airport 300 KMs away. To go to the inter-city bus station I had to take another bus before. It was in the process of taking this first bus that things started to become murkier. I was delighted to take the first bus in time (delighted because knowing myself I am usually either on time or a bit late but not often in time). The horror started to creep in not long after the bus passed a few stops. Yes, you guessed it: I was on the right bus but it was going in a totally opposite direction to where I wanted to go. I would later discover, to my dismay, in the place where I took this bus, there were two different pick up points for this same bus. If you take the bus from one of the pickup points, you would go straight to the inter-city bus station while if you are an unlucky chap like me who picked the other one, you will end up 10s of KMs 180 degrees away from the inter-city bus station. Once I figured out I had erred I tried everything to get back en-route. Long story short I would later get on the right bus line but miss my second bus for minutes. It was exactly at this crucial moment that the real horror began. First of all, just like the stock market graph sharply rises or plunges following some incident, my travel suddenly became super expensive. It was hard to book something cheaper this last minute, besides booking something cheap to reach my destination also means compromising my flight which would lead to some more chaos. The travel options were bounded in time and that’s what makes them expensive.

It took a while but emotions settled and I booked a train to go to the airport. Then over a cup of coffee close to the train station I started to think Why I missed the bus. Is missing this bus just a coincidence or is there something behind my thinking which isn’t exactly allowing me to meet most of my timing requirements?

Now I do believe missing this bus was not entirely my fault (I arrived in time, and only due to lack of prior information that I took the right bus headed the wrong way. Had I taken the right bus heading the right way I would have had abundant time take the second bus) nevertheless I felt a burden of guilt. So naturally, I started questioning all my decisions in life as one does in situations like this. What wasn’t also helping was the fact that I under-slept the night before finishing up some work whose execution time I underestimated.

My relationship with time has become sort of distorted. I have fallen victim to the habit of doing things at the last minute. This is on top of usually being bent upon underestimating/overestimating how much time a task is going to take. The first is dependent on the second. The proper estimation of the duration for the completion of a task is perhaps an important skill to move forward in life efficiently. It allows to compartmentalize activities and protects against leakage of tasks into one another. Having this skill entails meticulously timing oneself over the course of a task while also being mindful of oneself.

To work on my negative habit of doing things at the last minute I am going to start thing backwards in time instead of thinking forward. For example if I have to take a bus at 10:45 I would start by constraining myself to arrive there 5 minutes before. Then I would estimate the time between my current location and the bus station using different means of getting there. This gives me the approximate time I should leave. This is how I would also reason to complete the work on my next paper. The deadline is on September 9. The paper should be ready 3 days before this deadline hence September 6 is the real deadline. The paper will have 6/7 sections and these can be broadly divided in to 3 categories. The introduction and literature survey part, the theoretical part and the experimental results part. The last two parts constitute the heart of the paper and deservedly require most of the effort involved in writing the paper. Today is the 8th of August and I would like to have the theoretical part nailed down by the 26th of September. This means I have to finish formulating the models I work on by the 22nd of September and write the theoretical part of the paper in the remaining 4 days. The experimental part is also going to take lots of days but most of the experiments can be automated and can concurrently be done with other work such as writing the theoretical part. By the 31st of August or 1st of September I would like to have all experimental results along with the plots and tables. The next two days are going to be used to refine and integrate the theoretical and experimental part of the paper while the next two days will be used to write the introduction and literature review sections.

Lessons from this morning: work on your approximate estimation of completion time of tasks and when it comes to arriving somewhere or achieving something start thinking back in time (from a deadline or arrival time of a bus) instead of thinking forward. But the most import lesson would be don’t hesitate to ask bus drivers where the bus is going if you are not entirely sure.

Curing Numbness

I am gonna come clean from the start, in the past couple of years life for me has mostly been very difficult, numbing and without much of excitement. In fact there are moments where it seemed too much to handle. Though, after a careful observation, ironically, I have traced the source of my own suffering, most of the time, to be myself . How am I the cause for my own misery you ask? Well this is a question whose answer might literally fill up a page but if I were to cherry pick, overwhelming myself with unrealistic expectations both from myself  and from the world, endless overthinking, obsession with the trivial, demanding immediate result from anything I try to do or teach myself (hence colossal disappointment when results take their natural due time to arrive) and most of all an incessant self judgement and validation based on a distorted past image of myself would be the top contenders for my self sabotage. I would say 50-60% of my daily thoughts are these exacts thoughts or a derivative of them.

I don’t mean to imply all my problems are mind related, in fact I do have many physical problems. Last summer I was hospitalized for a day due to kidney stones (Now I don’t consider myself extremely tough but I also have never expected a pebble with a less than 2mm diameter to totally shatter my endurance making me wish my own immediate death 🙂 ). A year and a half ago while playing football I twisted my ankle and broke some ligaments therefore abstaining from any physical activity (even walking 2kms) for 6 months and from football for one year.

The silver bullet for most of my psychological problems I believe is mindfulness. Mindfulness as a remedy can address this problem in different forms. One can be for example observing my troublesome thoughts as soon as they arise instead of passively plunging myself into the emotional roller-coaster which is triggered by these thoughts. This is activity, which actually is the essence of mindfulness, saves the mind from being taken as a hostage by any thought that arises. After breaking the spin the natural second step would be refuting the thesis of these negative thoughts with a logic. All negative thoughts start from untrue premises and end up making unsound logical arguments. Anyone who is aware of the fundamental tenets of cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) can eventually master the habit of logically disputing these thoughts.

When it comes to my case the nail that seals the coffin of mindfulness is writing. I have to admit I haven’t been writing for a long time. In fact even on this blog there are a handful blog posts which had been started but never completed. Writing, at least in my case, used to give me the ultimate clarity into whatever I was writing about. The reason for this is simple: Before writing one has to think about what is to be written. The thinking continues also during the writing leading to a further clarity and a fine-grained understanding/misunderstanding of the matter. Consider this a public pledge to write at least one blog post a week.


Contemplations on ageing

I turned 28 last week. I was born on a Monday morning, at 7:15 AM (my mother has made it a tradition of waking me up at 7:15AM on my birthday every year). I was born in Jimma, a historical city 350Km away from Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. My memory of Jimma is vague and doesn’t really constitute much more than bleak images of me playing football on the dusty streets in our neighborhood with my childhood friends Esrom and Aaron, the big compound we used to share with the 4 families, Asnaku who is the youngest daughter of our neighbor Ato Zekarias’ family and who loved and cared for me so much (she practically raised me, per my mom’s recount). I can’t also forget the shop of Bezabih where I used to be offered  candies everyday by the kind shopkeeper, Bezabih. Teka Pastry (my favorite place in the whole of Jimma as I still remember the sweet delicacies), the awetu river and the park where my mom used to take me every weekend. I only lived in Jimma until I was 6, as my family moved following my dad who already started a new job in Addis Ababa.

Addis would become the city of my living, my schooling and transformation into adulthood. When I was 14 going on 15, at the first year of high school, I met my 3 best friends, Melkam, Abel and Yared and life took a sharp turn to the better, to the utter joie de vivre. A more than 14 years of friendship never lost its flair, not even once.  I  sometimes wonder how my life would have turned out if my path hadn’t crossed with these wonderful gentlemen. Another grand change took place in my life once again when at the age of 24 I left Ethiopia and moved to the boot shaped southern European country (aka Italy) to pursue further education. A small norther Italian city named Trento became the place of my dwelling for the next two and half years. I then moved to the beautiful medieval city of Pisa. My reflections about life in Italy in general could simply take hundreds of pages, hence I prefer not to to get into it here except perhaps acknowledging the fact that some of the  most wonderful and meaningful friendships I have ever had were formed in this wonderful land. Having been for a long time in a small but extremely tight circle of friends close friends in the past, moving to Italy made me aware of the different levels of friendships, the value of good friendship and how much of an effort it takes to cultivate one. All in all Italy has been casa a lontana da casa. The intention of this small memo was not actually to narrate my upbringing but to examine my current life a little bit, where it is now (per my perception) and where it ought to have been or better yet where I wished it should have been.

Examining one’s life, though necessary, is an arduous endeavor. From the face of it, when one himself is the examiner, the defendant, the judge and the jury of ones own path through life, the whole process becomes dubious and the results that come out of it ought not be totally trusted.  However it must be done since it is the only practical way to obtain clarity about oneself. Though there might be so many ways of examining oneself my preferred method is engaging myself in a self-conducted Q&A over a few things which I think are important.

Question 1. Who am I ?

Besides serving as a title for one of Jackie Chan’s movies 🙂 this overly famous question had been and is being posed in an infinite places and ways in different scientific, philosophical or artistic works. By asking myself this overloaded question, my intention is not study my ancestry but to get a better clarity over the sense of myself. Has it never happened to you that after you thought you have a pretty accurate grasp of who you really are, sometimes (and usually under certain circumstances) you are completely taken over by another temporary “you” whose characters are diametrically different from what you had defined yourself to be? It is not uncommon for this new “you” to be more courageous, less bothered with uncertainties, more compassionate or the contrary to all these positive behavioral attributes. These are the moments where I pause and question where all my presumed sense of self came from in the first place.

I grew up with people. I work and live with people consequently a lot of my thinking has directly or indirectly been influenced by my surrounding. As I had not proved or carefully examined everything that was passed  down to me as truth or fact of life, my life is built upon assumptions which I take for granted. Relying on a external wisdom (that is gained from of other people through different ways) is important when it comes to saving time and effort to deal with complex reality but it is also very dangerous if this wisdom is used without bounds. For example without massive collaborations between different universities in the US in the 60’s and 70’s the Internet would not have existed. Collaboration implies trusting the veracity of the work of others (or the wisdom of others) and extending their work or making it part of some larger project. This does not mean the veracity of the work of others is blindly taken for granted and if need be (as it is always the case) it is open for scrutiny. The beauty of science relies in its openness for correction when err.  So getting back to my self-reflection, I understand that the basis for my sense of self is partly a composition of external and internal assumptions and “facts” I grew up being fed as the basis for how reality is or “facts” I used in order to construct a higher abstraction about everything I know.

Simply stated, the path to knowing who I am largely lies in the conscious observation of  the assumptions which I base each of my decision moment after moment.  The observation involves asking some very fundamental questions such as “Why do I want to do this”, “are these assumptions that I am justifying whatever it is I am trying to do correct or how do I know if they are correct”, “is there anyway my assumptions could be wrong or perhaps more interestingly, how will things play out if I choose a different set of assumptions” etc… Questions like these would eventually expose the system of thinking one has developed over many years and one uses to define oneself consciously or unconsciously. They also have the power to correct or at least identify a problematic way of thinking.

Over the past years I must admit I have made progress on questioning my own thoughts, external assumptions and suspending a verdict over the veracity of thought until I have enough evidence. As living an active life is demanding, I sometimes slip into old habits of taking things for granted.

Question 2: What are the natural forces which are against me

Through civilization, mankind was able to diminish the domain of the fatal natural forces from what they amounted thousands of years ago. Today, the natural forces which still remain in the high end of the fatal spectrum, though perilous, have at least been rendered predictable. An asteroid is as deadly as it was 10000 years ago but now it’s descent to the earth can be tracked way before its impact. To a certain degree it can be said that the major concern in modern life, with regards to natural forces, is more about meaningful existence than it is about survival. So what are the natural forces we are up against in our time ?

One of the most abundant natural force which is posing a threat to a meaningful existence is entropy. But first what do I mean by entropy? The second law of thermodynamics states that

[Part II] to be continued


Publications following my masters thesis

  • B. Seyoum, M. Rossi and D. Brunelli, “A self-powered wireless bolt for smart critical fastener,” 2017 Global Internet of Things Summit (GIoTS), Geneva, 2017, pp. 1-6. doi: 10.1109/GIOTS.2017.8016242
  • Seyoum, Biruk B.; Rossi, Maurizio; Brunelli, Davide, “Energy neutral wireless bolt for safety critical fastening” in SENSORS, v. 17, n. 10 (2017), p. 2211-2227. – URL: . – DOI: 10.3390/s17102211

Tête-à-Tête with a familiar stranger (part II)

“Excuse me, I might be wrong but it is my assumption that you have been following me the past couple of weeks” I asked. With no reply he sent his right hand into the left pocket of his jacket, pulled out a pack of Winston, lighted one and started smoking. A good 30 seconds or so passed before the next words were uttered preceded by few puffs. “You are not wrong”. Then a few more puffs. This was probably one of the strangest encounters I have had in my life and I was still desperately waiting for words to come out of his mouth. Now the cigarette was half smoked. He took one more puff and threw it away.Destined to listen to it, I barely paid attention to the fact that I am not the only one who likes to smoke cigarettes half away. My attention barely flinched to the thread of thought that focus did not flinch I barely Part of my realization


Tête-à-Tête with a familiar stranger (part I)

The prequel
It was one of those mildly cold autumn nights with its backing vocalist with soothing voice, a tender and incessant shower. The randomly laid colorful leaves were bare witnesses of the season. In quasi successful attempt to escape the down pour I was walking as fast as I could. As I kept pulling my feet one after the other in the hopes of wrapping myself, from head to toe with the 30 degrees of air inside my apartment, I saw him again. This time in the alley between the two old buildings a few blocks down my apartment. He was looking at no one but me. He was standing in the middle of the rain with no desire of escaping from it.

I paced even more, to a point where any rise in speed and I would been lifted off the ground. Gosh, that moment of sticking my keys to the key holes of the front door seemed eternity.

One hour later, sipping a hot chamomile tea, mindlessly staring at a screen while the full weight of my attention span around quite number of prior encounters, with you know who.

I don’t remember when I first saw him and truth to be told I am entirely sure if it is a he but that isn’t important at all. He usually wears dark baggy trousers, with gray shirt, woolen long coats with a thick black scarf and brown boots. This is outfit remained unaltered for months. When his ubiquity turned from being mysterious at first to exasperating in a while, I was but forced to attempting to resolve his identity, only to no avail.

Once as I was leaving my usual breakfast diner after a croissant and a caffe latte, when I spotted him across the street. This is a few months after I started seeing him randomly many times a day. May be it was the unusually high caffeine in my latte that morning but I made a jerk and headed towards him.

As I got closer and closer I noticed he was as tall as me but in a much better shape. He had broad shoulders with a pale face, which was semi covered by a lightly shaved beard. His brown eyes were playful and seemed to have their own story to tell. As I was busy carefully scanning this man from top to bottom, it took me a while before noticing my stretched hands didn’t receive a shake back. I slowly retracted my hands while staring at the his eyes just to make sure whether he is aware of my embarrassment. Who is this stranger and why does he look so mysteriously familiar and most importantly why does he seemingly keep going after me ?

Cinderella at the Luminara

Meeting her was a total accident. It was my first time at the yearly festival in the city where I recently moved into and a typical first timer, I was going around trying to absorb it all in as much as I could. I was with a few friends who at the late hours of the night sank into the crowd never to be seen for the rest of the night. Despite having started to drink a cocktail of vodka and lemon, which was comfortably disguised in a blue plastic water bottle, since 8 o’clock in the night, the alcohol didn’t take a toll on me as much as it should have. I was tired but I continued my aimless walk in search of my friends and there she was in the middle of the big square. We knew and didn’t know each other at the same time. After a brief greeting we started chatting about this and that . Moments later, as it was already dawning, I asked her if we could watch the sun rise close to the tower which was not so far away from the piazza we were at. I have never been at the tower in such hour of the day but with her at that moment, no place seemed so right. We started strolling. Before we reached the end of the piazza which we were at, I locked my arm with her arm. As we continued strolling, the natural flow of conversation made us seem as though we knew each other from years ago but not just as two virtual strangers who met few minutes short of an hour. As we turned right to the street of Via Santa-Maria heading to the tower, splinters of sun light from the early morning twilight lighted her face and it was then I comprehended how, despite looking tired,  delightfully beautiful she was. Meanwhile the mix of the morning light and her blondish curly hair was also creating a show of its own. Our arms were still locked and the conversation was still flowing. She didn’t speak too fast and she didn’t speak to slow either. My throat was suddenly starting to get dry and I remembered I still had some vodka lemon in the plastic bottle which I had kept in my back pocket. When I left my house for the night I was laden with enough alcohol to get me through the night and apparently my foresight was commendable for I have something to drink even this late in the night. She started to giggle as she saw me perform a great early morning miracle of pulling out a blue plastic bottle filled with vodka out of no where. The sound of her laughter was a refreshing thrill and definitely better than the ubiquitous morning song of the birds which was feeling the fresh morning air. A thought in my head whispered,  “nothing feels good like making a woman laugh in the wee hours of the night huh”. She had thicker lips, the kind which reminds me of my mother’s. I lightly kissed her on her cheeks. Before we knew it we were standing in front of the tower whose white marbles were scattering the golden early morning sun light creating a halo and posing even more majesty onto itself. To the left of the tower there was the cathedral and we headed to it. The small passage from the main street to the cathedral was blocked with a low hanging chain where a written notice forbids visitors not to head to the cathedral before 7AM in the morning. The blockade forced us to stand facing each other. I looked at her tired but keen eyes, her thick eyebrows, her lips, her face which was beaming with involuntary smile, her white blouse and the light dark pant suit she was wearing. This was no time to waste chatting, As I went for a gentle kiss on her neck an invigorating scent filled my nose. My lips stayed locked onto her neck for a while my fingers were going through her hair adding more dynamics to the still on going foreplay between her hair and the golden sunlight. I then moved onto lightly kissing her cheeks and naturally our lips found each other in a short while. The touching of our lips mixed with the taste of tobacco in her breath sent an electric shock in all my body. We kissed for a moment before we both recoiled back for  an unintended deep stare into each others eyes. When it comes to worldly pleasures, a few of them I enjoy the most for the first brief moments and these include the first sip of a good beer, the first puff of an occasional cigarette and a woman’s first kiss. Passion was raising high and not breaching the “No crossing before 7AM” notice felt so unnatural so we trespassed to sit at the stairs of the cathedral and continue melting into each other under the rising sun.

She was beautiful in every sense of the word, she knows how kiss, when to stop and talk, how to send fiery signals into the eyes, I was awe struck by it all. We moved on to the green grass field in front of the cathedral. After what felt to be an extended moment of oneness, as we were both laying down, her head on my chest, we started to look at the fiery sun slowly revealing herself from the back of the tower. It was then that I began to sense the long lost feeling of utter tranquility that was starting to dawn on me. I was suddenly light and bright inside just as a room which was lit with rays of sun light after its dirty glass window had been cleaned. My legs locked with hers while my fingers kept ramming through her hair and my nose absorbing the totality of her scent as she lied on my chest carefully listening to every beat of my heart. It all made the front of the cathedral the right place to be and to remain at for a long time.

We started talking again and this time her physical beauty seemed her least quality.  The captivating conversation was starting to reveal how intelligent and engaged she was to what she was doing. The conversation began to dwindle again as we slowly drifted into our own threads of thought while holding each other tight. At 7 AM a blasting alarm from her phone awakened us both from the soothing bliss we were submerged in. She stopped the cacophony from her phone and started to kiss me on my neck then on my lips and I also started to kiss her back all along reciting in my head the words of Rhett to Scarlet on  Gone with Wind: “You should be kissed my dear Scarlet and often and by someone who knows how”.

As I woke up from what I presumed was a brief sleep, she was gone. At first I was confused if it was all a hallucination from too much indulgence of alcohol from the night before. But the sweet odor I was smelling on myself made hallucination unlikely. I then remembered about the alarm at 7 AM. What did it all mean? What if it was a signal to mark a transition from land of the ideal to the real. A signal to mark the abrupt end of the stretch of imagination. I stood up, composed myself and started to walk in the direction of my house suddenly thinking about the tale of  Cinderella which I read many years ago. I am not exactly the fan of fantasy love stories but I couldn’t help but draw some parallels between the Cinderella of the fables and my Cinderella of the night. Cinderella left prince charming her glass slippers while she escaped before her reverse-metamorphosis into her old poor self at mid night while my Cinderella of the night left me with a crack in my heart before the clock of gray reality struck at 7 AM and she left abruptly: a crack to let more light to sparkle my soul which was already growing weary or a crack which might grow into a sink hole.