A Hug!

I felt your being, your soul, your past and your future. I felt at home, you were my home at that moment… You know they said that time was an illusion and that it’s non-existent, I never understood what they meant, time had stopped for me, until I hugged you. Like a silent prayer I ask you, hug me for a while longer…

                The concept of hugs and hugging was still an unusual notion for me, but when I was in India, it became a norm. Why and How? Simply to put it down in words, it happened in the moments were words failed to express, the moments were when the throat was thick to speak and the eyes were blurry with tears, lips trembling up and down between sadness and happiness, it’s in these moments were bodies were leaning with an embrace towards each other disregard of any efforts of doing so. Moments were bodies cried for embrace, it is the simple moment of when a Hug comes into play. Where the rib cages colliding and the hearts meet. Forgive me, let me rephrase that, it’s when the hearts SPEAK.  

                I have been away from home at that time for almost 6 months; it was the longest time me being that long away from my family. My heart was racing as the plane landed, and almost stopped as I walked outside the gate towards the airport’s exit and I saw my parents and siblings waiting for me in the hallway. We have a Lebanese culture of greeting each other, we kiss, we kiss a lot. So the traditional way of greeting each other would be three kisses on the cheeks with one or two arms on the person’s shoulders depending how much you’re close, or how much you miss that person. Having that in my mind, a didn’t want their kisses I wanted to feel and embrace their beings. I rushed towards my mom at the beginning; I saw tears in her eyes from a distance as I walked towards here, I increased my pace and thrusted jumping into her arms embracing her with a hug. She took it in of course but not how I expected her to, she then went back to the tradition of kisses, I mean that was how she was taught to express love and affection, that was her way, her language... I then turned to my father and embraced him with the same, his reaction was a bit poorer than my mother, he didn’t know how to react he then went back to the same tradition, same case with my brother. I won’t hide it, I was a bit disappointed and my soul wasn’t satisfied. My expression for love and receiving in return was not yet fulfilled.  I kept my tradition and set the old one off. I embraced friends and families with my new tradition of a hug, I got similar responses to the ones of my family, however I remember two of my cousins expressed that they preferred the hug, they leaned forward for a kiss, I by responded with a rushed settling hug instead, it was a strange thing for them but they soon breathed it all in and felt it’s magic. I kept my tradition all the way long, it was part of my identity as an individual, as soul that’s always thirsty for giving and receiving love without any limits or expectations.

                Fast forward,, 3 years later… I came home to the gentle south today after a long hectic week in the city, and after not seeing my family for a longer while… I arrived home and my dad was in the field checking on our baby trees, as soon as he saw me coming upwards towards our house on the road he walked to the front gate to meet me. I stepped down from the car and rushed to his arms for an embrace, he hugged me tight this time, and still gave me a kiss, and I did too, I guess old traditions will never die, I guess hugs were part of this old tradition but soon had been forgotten. I felt my father’s soul, we spoke without saying anything, our hearts spoke.  I knocked our door and my sister opened, the initial reaction was a mutual hug, and we hugged some more. Our hug lasted for almost 3 good minutes, we swayed and breathed, she was my home and I was hers, it is a cold winter day, it kept us warm too, not the kind of warmth that you’d physically feel only, but also the one that you’d feel it glowing from the inside. I then went to my mother and embraced her, we also spoke without saying a thing, despite her being occupied with her art in creating food, she had time for an embrace and satisfying hug. Followed by my brother eventually, surprising me with his sincere hug… It just hit me! They got it, they spoke other language of love eventually and it was beautiful… My heart had to knock the doors of their hearts and embrace their souls, it happened naturally and effortlessly. It immediately healed the accumulated fatigue of the week.

                The cherry on the top of the cake was that my friend that I met in India that I haven’t seen since 3 years was in the south with my aunt, she had to pick her up from the airport since I couldn’t.  Soon I heard the car arriving, I dashed down to meet her. She spoke the language of love and embrace, with my accent. The moment the door opened, I swear that I felt her soul merging with mine before even her touching me, it felt as time had stopped. I can still see her face in my head, her eyes sparkling with light, a beaming smile anticipating to connect, and arms wide open ready to enter a different dimension. It was to strong… We met each other again the moment we hugged. The wave almost physically blew my hair; again it was something radiating from within… Our souls shared the stories again, we united again, we breathed, settled, welcomed, connected, loved, spoke, cried, laughed, shared, took a walk, sang, listened, reflected, swayed, and came back through that hug.

               

Story of a Swan!

It was just like any other day, floating as she reflected upon her reflection on that lake. She looked at her fellow swans from a distance; they were busy with their everyday, day to day norm; some were picking and cleaning their feathers, others taking a nap, some gently swaying with their mates as they swam, and others taking a walk on the dry land.

She looked back at her reflection, then up to the sky. The sun was setting and it was a nice warm summer day. The sky and the lake both looked the same, but felt absolutely different. She felt however a connection between the sky and the lake, an invisible thread that connected both. Something was calling her from the sky, an urge started building within her. The old tradition said, “You should always fly and travel in packs, never alone or thee shall perish”. For once the old traditions and norms meant nothing to her. I mean she just smiled, her eyes teared up because her life will never be the same ever again, she just lifted her wings up in the sky from the lake droplets of water were drizzling from above mixing with her tears, everyone looked at her with owe and wondered what is going on with that crazy swan, they knew she was always weird but now she’s topping all her records. She lifted her body up slowly like she was the only swan in the whole existence; the lake was distorted, looked and felt different. Her body was between the lake and the sky, not knowing where she was heading, but feeling with every inch of her body that she was meant to be else were and that she had a mission to fulfill.  

The other swans started rushing towards her shouting and yelling, warning her not to fly away since she’ll be doomed, it’s a dangerous world out there, they called her a “delusional”, “Crazy”, “Bipolar”, even one suggested that she might be “Dehydrated”. It was hilarious that she was laughing as her tears were pouring down her feathery cheeks. She was up high, too late and too fast for anyone to catch up with or stop. She looked at the setting sun and started flying towards it. Call them crazy, but some swore that she looked like an angel, a white angel flapping its wings towards the setting sun as the sparkles of her tears seemed like glitter in the air.

Oh how pleasant the wind seemed on her cheeks, and life never felt that fulfilling or perfect for her ever before. She knew she was heading towards a journey, guided, and led. After all she carried her inner compass within her.

Mo Gabris

Why Writing?

I was just wondering, why writing? Where did this urge to write down selective experiences, thoughts or/and random stories, despite if they were interesting or not?

And it suddenly came to me like watching a short movie in my head. I remembered that scene from the movie “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince”, there was a scene in which Dumbledore extracts his own memories through a magic spell and saves that memory in an object called “The Pensieve” which is used to review memories by the owner and any other person. And this technique allows anyone to live, feel and see that memory. 

And for me writing felt exactly the same. Going to my notebook/diary, or PC, opening my word document and start typing down, or writing down on my notebook what I’m seeing in my head and what I’m feeling in my heart and simply putting them down for everyone to access them and live them, and for me, believe me, it’s magic. 

From the Movie:

Dumbledore: "I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

Harry: "You mean... that stuff's your thoughts?"

Dumbledore: "Certainly."

— Albus Dumbledore to Harry Potter

It gives thrills all through my body; my heart starts pounding like it’s dancing on a pensive melody played in silence, that rush of adrenaline that a sport junkie would feel before jumping off a cliff and into the ocean. 

Writing indeed is one of the most powerful means of communications. It’s the ultimate treasure. I frequently hear phrases like, my sword is my pen, or you can perish my existence but never the existence of thoughts and words, or that “Thoughts shape-up when put down in words”. I never really knew what they meant, but when I felt that itchiness within to just write, it’s when I start to realize why. 

It started with an overwhelming feeling of experiencing and learning and gaining, it felt like witnessing the ultimate knowledge, a knowledge that only you can see, and then you’d have that flare of fear and excitement mixed together to pass on what you once witnessed, to pass on what you felt, what you learned, it feel like you want to enlighten, to open eyes, melt an icy crust on somebody’s heart. 

That what made me write, that exact itchiness. But sometimes I just write because I simply feel like I want to talk to someone and to express, someone who’s undefined, someone who’s timeless and ageless, someone who doesn’t have a name or identity. I sometimes write to an empty existence that has everything and nothing; and through that existence I feel heard and find the best listener one can ever have.

“Sometimes only paper will listen to you” -Unknown

And above all I write to learn. 

I write to preserve my memories, to go back to them and start connecting the dots. When I go back to what I once wrote, I learn new lessons, things that never made sense started to make, things from the past that gave strength to my present, and hope to my future. 

“I write to give myself strength. I write to be the characters that I’m not. I write to explore all the things I’m afraid of”

-Jos Whedon

And keep in mind; you don’t have to publish a book to be a writer, or start a blog, or write in a newspaper or a magazine. Your only audience may be your papers, and that’s what it takes for you to be a writer. 

“Writing is a calling not a choice” -Isabel Allende 

“The writer is by nature a dreamer – a conscious dreamer” -Carson McCullers 

Writing is what keeps me going, is my comfort, it’s like meeting an old friend after a long long time, someone whom you trust and cherish the most. It’s like sitting under an old oak tree in a sunny summer, next to fresh stream of water, as the gentle summer breeze blowing like it’s whispering to the oak’s leaves how much he loves her. Sitting with that friend in silence, breathing, and being. This is how writing feels to me. 

And the best part is that it’s a timeless treasure that anyone can enjoy and live, a shared memory by whom is allowed to read. 

Writing can be an escape to a different reality, or changing the present reality by itself to fit the writer. It’s an expression of the heart, mind and soul altogether; a dance that we seldom see. A platform that invites all elements to meet and dance, and eventually becoming one. 

“The true alchemists do not change lead into gold. They change the world into words”

-William H. Gass

A Story Of A Room!

Corrupt free country! A truly democratic country! Hate, hunger, and greed free. That was my dream. I marched with thousands and addressed thousands more. I fought against black money, right to information and right to education. Acts to pass it unto the government for implementation. I participated in India’s biggest movement, the Anna Hazari movement. I got countless national awards and praises.

I founded my own team against corruption, and towards social work. 

In my team was that girl. Once I visited her place because she wasn’t feeling well, she was in deep depression it was written all over her face. “Kya Howwa?” (What’s wrong). She spoke and her tears were racing down her cheeks. She was tired of life… Tried to commit suicide many times. All what I offered to her was my ears and heart, the gift of listening… An offer that remained for 30 days until her face started changing, brightening up and glowing… She was out of depression… Eventually I fell in love with her, and she did the same… We had each others backs, a connection that no one could understand… She was my world…. my life… 

I proposed! She said yes… The word spread among our friends and families…. It was some kind of a fairytale… I was her hero and she was my princess… Happily ever after?

I thought it was… Until that day she came up to me and said. “I can’t marry you! You’re not practical, you’re too emotional. Always thinking about other's needs, and people’s needs, what about our needs?”

Those few words of her were just enough for my world to collapse. A shocking stab to the heart… With a twist of that sharp blade… 

One year of depression… One year caged in my room…

My inner bars… and outer ones…

The world was dark and gloomy… Filled up with fear and hatred…

My demons came to life… I was in a constant battle with them… I couldn’t resist…

I had no courage to face them… I didn’t have the courage to face myself…

I even wasn’t able to move my body… I was paralyzed… Chained to my bed… Tears frozen on the sides of my eyes… 

My sky was that ceiling and that fan.. They were in a dark gloomy motion, yet still…

 

In front of my bed was my bike… All what I could do is play the memories of the past like a VCR tape over and over again sobbing on what was gone, and what once was felt… The times which we used to ride the bike together, sing love songs… laugh… Chase the city lights… Chase the setting sun of the day…

My world was perfect… And suddenly no more…

My world became a living hell…

 

My mom and sisters used to come to my room, call me to go out, beg me to go out…. To talk to people…

I swear I used to shiver whenever I spoke to that kid that lived next door. .. I didn’t have the courage… I didn’t know what to say… I was too weak…

All what I had within me was a question mark in a very dark place.

After few months I started looking for answers… I started looking for God… I had some courage of what was left of me to step out of my room… Visiting temples, churches, and mosques, seeking God, questioning him… Beginning him…

What’s wrong with me? What’s happening? Why is it happening to me??

All what I did during all day long… Was eating, sleeping and reading…

I started with holy books of all religions…

And what I discovered! Was one phrase that all books had in common…

“Nothing is permenant!”… I said to myself, even though I didn’t believe any single bit of it at that time…

 “This too shall pass”…

I felt it somehow…

Everyday waking up… What shall I do today… Why am I waking up?? 

I used to go on the streets and walk recklessly… Hoping for a truck to run me over and end my misery…

Life… Was a burden…

One day! This thought came to me… 

Because of my desires, I got my depression… And my strongest desire was attachment…  I wanted her!

As my desires grew, my demons grew…

And I realized I had the choice… And I had the answer!

No more… I wish to continue with my life… I’ll keep on searching for answers…

But not this way…

 

Through that pain… I discovered God… The God within me…

That connection… Was the key of my freedom… Freedom of all desires and attachments…

Love is letting go… Knowing it’s something you’ll ever lose…

And somehow… Somewhere… Love and God… Are connected…

 How?

That’s what I’m looking for…

That’s what we’re looking for…

Background: It took me one day in that room to feel the presence of a story, waiting to be shed and told. 

Himanshu Bharat, one of my closest friends, during one of our outreaches in India we visited his hometown Lucknow, and stayed at his place. I spent one night in that room, and every corner I looked at I felt that a big story was lying behind it. I took the liberty to ask, and a story was behind it indeed... 

Thank you Himanshu for giving me the liberty to share a part of you through the part of me that lived it... 

There's always hope! No matter how dark the room is, no matter how chained our feet are!!

PS: Pictures Taken by me, all originated from his bedroom.

Her Winter Story

It was a normal day of that winter like any other. She finished her classes, waved her goodbyes to friends and waited for mother to hold her heart back home. The sun was setting behind the thick gray clouds. The sky was a celebration of a mute orchestra of orange and grayish shades, and the winds conducting the symphony of silence... The streets were shallow welcoming the arriving night... Her soul was the sole light of that street... Time started to choke matching the escalating beats of her heart... Eyes swaying across in wonders... Screaming for an existence to hold her trembling soul... The winds slapped her face with cold palms.. That was enough for the streams of her salty river to gently glide on her cheeks...
The oceans within were splashing with terror... The depth of her core had something to say...
She looked up.. Setting her soul free... The chains were too heavy to carry... Her soul felt home somewhere else.. That sparkle in her eyes reflected what she witnessed... It was a moment but enough to last a lifetime...  Soon mother arrived...held her heart..  But she can tell... The heart wasn't the same... Wondered in silence... Kissed her... Kept on holding with a gentle prayer...
The girl knew! That someday... Some how...
She'll be home again...

PS: A true story inspired by one of the most precious lights in my life... Zeinab Aldilati...
Much love...

Untamed Heart

Time flies by so quickly carrying along great memories, precious ones that pass by so swiftly like a sweet spoon of honey added to a hot cup of red tea, dissolving so perfectly yet instantly. You can no longer see, but the taste can strongly be felt. Soon it's taste fades away like a divine setting sun on the plains of your tounge, and soon what the cup had to offer gets exhausted. But that feeling of sweetness wrapped in such warmth, becomes an unforgettable part of your own. I tried to hold on to that feeling but that sense of possessiveness soon killed it's essence, what I could do was to let it go and pass it on. I had to keep up with the speeding train of sweetness and at often times the bitterness of time which made it even sweeter. My only leap of faith was to plant down these memories into the soil of time and watering them with thoughts that I owned. Watching that little seed transform into a giant tree, carved with scripts that held the hidden secrets unleashing the untamed horses of our hearts...

Silence Had Something To Say

We walked into the crowd, and fell into silence... And walked some more... After a while, silence was unbearable... "What's on your mind?" I asked with an attempt to silence silence itself... No response...

"What are you thinking about?"...I asked again staring straight at her... A moment of silence passed... "I can't explain it" she finally replied.... Another silent moment swung by... "Me too" I said to myself... And we perused our silent walk...

Caux: The Gift Of Giving And Receiving

     The weather outside matches exactly my feeling inside: rainy, foggy, cold, and gloomy. And I thought that goodbyes would get easier by time, but apparently not. Here I am in Caux sitting in my room, listening to my music. Torn apart but yet filled with love and gratefulness.

    It’s been a year, exactly a year since I’ve been to Caux. The first time as an intern. How was it? It was one of the best experiences of my life, it was magic. There were 35 of us, all connected and in love with each other. Every night when everyone was done with their workshops and work shifts we used to rush into our own space, Caux-Café or Salon du lac. Spending time together, listening to music, sharing our lives and stories, sharing our moments of laughter and tears. Yes it sounded like a dream, I swear it was a dream, I think it was one of these moments where you feel that the world is perfect, and everybody around you is.

So I had to give back, I felt like I owe Caux what I was given, I owe people that I never met to make sure they’ll have an experience that’s even better than mine. I applied for logistic coordination and I got accepted, few months later I was in Switzerland. I took the train from Geneva to Montreux, and being in Montreux it felt real. It looked so different yet the same, flashbacks started to strike from last year. I missed their presence, my Caux-Bras, their faces and smiles, but hey! It’s not about me anymore, focus, I am here to pass on what I once tasted. I took my train to Caux, and on the way up I couldn’t help but to think of the past. I reached Caux, I walked all over the place starting with the reception area, were we once sat on that very coach, sighed, paused and cried, said our goodbyes and moved on. Down to the main hall, were we stood up sang, danced, got inspired and smiled. Down to the 2nd floor the dining room where we squeezed in, sat next to each other, ate our meals, and shared our stories. Then off to Caux Café were we danced our hearts out, whispered what lied on our hearts, played the guitar, and watched our favorite movies. Salon Du lac, where we gathered, shared our vulnerability, and built our walls then learned how to break them, we shared our lives with each other, and simple thoughts of inspirations, it was where we expressed our frustration side by side to our love and appreciation. The terrace where we bathed under the sun swayed with winds and dreamt of lake Geneva. And finally to roof top where we kissed our evenings on their foreheads with a euphoric setting sun, planting the seeds on inspiration deep within, with hands held, and hearts embraced.

   That was Caux for me and many others. I came with a different perception, more like with an empty one holding it to be filled again by the new arriving hearts.

    And the interns started to arrive, carrying their bags, and lives awaiting to be shared and altered. Every single one of them coming in with a gift. My role this time was different,, my expectations, my intentions, and my needs were all so different than the ones I had in the previous year. I came in with the theme of giving and passing it on.

    The first week was very challenging, it was me and my friend Maushika in the coordination team, and 4 others Athalia, and Alex the trainers, Patty the trainee and Ruth the Mentoring program coordinator. That was us, the team, and it was the beginning of our one month journey. The first week was the introductory week, it was a bit hard, a combination of chores and duties, being aware of the interns, surroundings and having a sense of my team’s dynamic. 

                           


    Our first day, we all gathered at salon Du lac, had our introductory talks, names, nationalities, and lots of icebreakers. The spirits were really high, everyone filled with excitement, curiosity, and some nervousness of course. After couple of hours we went outside as the sun started to set, and our chats and conversations rose. Everyone standing on the lawns facing lake Geneva, and tucked in by an orange blanket. It was the beginning of that journey.

                           

    The week started off with our 2:00am hiking trip to Rocher de Naye (2024 meters above sea level). It was indeed one of the highlights from my last year. So we started marching after meeting up in the reception area and we went up, it was pitch black, but soon our eyes adjusted to the darkness, looking up we could clearly see the stars scattered all over the sky. Walking side by side with people whom some you never spoke before and others that you’re interested in getting to know more. I was walking along with Lynn, when she shared her dream of star gazing with her friends since in china it’s hard to have a clear sky because of the pollution, and just watching her delightfulness to spend that hike under a sky covered with stars that day. Playing music, chatting and walking, that was the shared norm as we hiked our way up. It was cold, and tiring I paused a few times as I was supporting my friend Hala to reach the top, she made it easy with the jokes that she shared, she definitely knows how to lift a spirit. Let’s not forget to mention that Kiprono helped most of the time in supporting her, that as just so soothing to watch, they barely met and knew each other, and there he is supporting her all the way through. Finally after 3 hours of hiking we reached the top. The cheers, laughter, sighs and joys filled up the cold crisp air on that top, and whenever someone new reached the top, the cheers would rise up again along with that person climbing up. As we all gathered on the top, and had our snacks and drinks, the sun slowly started to rise, the view was heavenly great. Enormous Mountains covering the landscapes hugged by marching clouds as the wind blew. Yes! We all did it, that was the first celebration of our unified achievement all together.

We headed back as everything was bright, it was beautiful scenery, as the trees, and the mountains started to wake up after a starry quiet night. Couple of hours later we reached back to the palace, we dispersed to our rooms for showers, rest, and dining rooms for our breakfast. Later that evening we had a bon fire planned where we all gathered at 8:00pm on the edge of the forest, circling the fire and covered with blankets. Yssa was feeding the fire that night, taming it like well-trained wild creature. We sang, we played, shared and ate, had our silent moments staring at the fire, and living our own different worlds and realities. It was a beautiful conclusion of that day. We stayed up late till 1:00am laughing and singing, the skill of being drunk with zero consumption of alcohol. 

    Days passed and we were in the zone, our daily breakfast meetings, preparations, workshops, intern’s work shifts, debriefings, morning and afternoon quiet times, tea times, night activities, everyday was so different than the other. It was a blessing to watch the transformation of the interns, the way they tackled their challenges, the ways they interacted with each other, and the way their critical minds worked, so much to learn from. I was between two fires, being and observing and learning so much, or falling into the temptation of being involved and being part of them and their happenings, I had to maintain a balance.

    I just can’t stop thinking of those moments that we had, those moments when you feel complete, when that very moment feels so perfect, you feel present. Like the afternoon quiet times where we listened to soft music in silence, wrote down our thoughts, and expressed through creativity and doodling, shared our thoughts, tears and smiles, Nalini, Maushika, Andra, Violetta, Valerie, Tetyana, Yssa, thank you for your gifts on those unforgettable quiet afternoons and love that you shared. Or those moments of lying under the stars at 3:00am with Yacoub, Mustafa, and Yssa, I felt part of you guys, and part of that very sky above us. That night that we went down to the jazz festival and danced under the rain, a sense of priceless freedom and joy. Our sunset evenings on the rooftop, with our random conversations, and discussions about life, religion, love, and food, Dalia, Annie, Alex, Ruth, Athalia, Arrienna, Ahmad, and Yssa, those were definitely one of my favorite sunsets. And those amazing nights and talks in the dining room and Caux Café with everyone, Ana, Sophie, Sara, Marienne, Synna, Andrew and Rachel. The crazy cheers during the world cup with Gabby and Najem. Messages sessions with Yacoub, Gabby, Dalia, and Yssa, guys your legends, made everybody’s day worth working hard for, hahahhaha I really need one now. It’s of course worth mentioning that it was Ramadan, and those nights during Suhur and Iftar with everyone around, Veera and Ahmad you gave me stomach Aches from all of the intense laughter, bless you guys :P. 

                            

And most importantly I was so grateful for having my brother Mustafa being with me through experience, knowing that from now on I have a huge support back home from someone who shared my very similar experience, and having my uncle visiting us from Paris to check the world that we’re experiencing. 

As the days passed, and as the 2nd, 3rd, and the 4th week passed, our bonding grew stronger and stronger every day. We grew together, and learned from each other, listened to each other’s stories that time slowly uncovered. I fell in love with each and every one of them, with their strengths, and their weaknesses. And finally the day had to come, to say our goodbyes. And I only thought that it’ll get easier by time, but apparently it didn’t, and I hope that it wouldn’t. That pain, with all of its beauty, that reminder that once you loved and it pains to be away from the people you fell in love with, it’s one of the strongest signs of existence and life. As we went off to the train stations every time someone left to set them off and say our goodbyes, I would wear my sunglasses to hide my tears. Each and every one of us setting off with their destinies, and the gifts they gave and received in return. They left this place, but stayed in my heart. In each other’s hearts.   

     

                             

                             

    It’s one of these places where you share you insecurities and embrace them, learn from them and accept them, and being in a supportive environment of doing so gives you that feeling of belonging, and thriving for more. It’s only when we recognize our insecurities, and accept them is when we start loving people and accept them, and that’s also when we stop judging them because we stopped doing that to ourselves. It was indeed a great lesson to embrace, that people are your reflection and having almost 250 people in such a place and 15 of them to daily interact with is an incredible platform to explore yourself and learn.

     And one of the highlights was to see Dasha, Chuan and Zubia from my last year's internship, Dahsa and Chuan back a svolunteers and Zubia as a 2nd session logistic coordinator. I was in the dining room and I saw Dasha from the glass windows of the 3rd floor, our eyes met, heart was beating, she just rushed down and I rushed up, we met on the stairs with teary eyes and just hugged, and we can just feel each other's beating hearts. Few days later Dasha comes to me and tells me go chexk table 7 there's a surprise, so I went there and I just saw my dearest brother Chuan sitting there, you can just imagine the rest of the story. And finally in our final week there I was in Salon Du lac, or the interns room. I was sitting with some of the interns there ans just generally chatting. I opened the window and popped my head out and was talking to Gabriela, one of the interns. And from behind someone pokes me, and it was my precious Zubia, I was shocked we hugged each other soooo tight that when we stopped we couldn't stand, our legs both of us were shaking. I felt so blessed to have these amazing three people there with me and share a unified experience. They were my main source of strength.

    I stayed a few days after everyone left, it was so hard. I was torn apart between two time zones, this year’s experience, and my past year with the Caux-Bras 2013. I can see everyone in every corner. Nostalgia is a dirty liar indeed. But I love it. This phase ended but it just began in me, and the journey shall continue. With more hearts to meet, and more lessons to learn.

It was a traumatized love indeed.

My Caux-Bras I love you and miss you so much.

My Caux-Bras 2013 Batch

Dancing under the rain

The storm is not gonna stop us from loving the night

Celebrating the night

We find our matches

Haunted each other down to the airports

I was trying to be normal

It was time to separate, with a bond that'll last forever... 

Our Final Goodbyes :')

Our sunsets 

We planted our hopes and dreams in each others hearts...

Until we meet again <3

Our final night...
See you all soon <3