I'm sorry because I've been forgetting you, my little dreamy characters, living in dreamy lands and wistful, dog-eared fairytales.

You guys don't know what's happening outside your squared green lands—up atmospheric blue skies and starry night-falls. Maybe I'm going back one day to teach you the meaning of war and fear, so that you can be more human, so one day you dream of a better place.

Yes, only then will you be human, and you'll jump up my papers and come alive.

I'll wash away your knowledge, to leave you scrambling for wisdom and words just so you know how hard these things come by.

I'm sorry but I still don't know how to make my wishes come true. In the place where I live, genies don't visit at all because death angels are hogging up the space. Maybe when the traffic gets a bit slow.

If I try to tell you of what I've seen, you'd vanish and fade away. You haven't heard of a mountain of people, each trying to step on his friend's hands to reach the top. I haven't seen one get there yet, and I couldn't ask him if it was worth the view.

Last week, I barely had a single dream. Are you finally seeing the world that I see?

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A/N: It's getting ugly in the middle east. It's not healthy for an almost sixteen year old to be talking politics with her friends, or to be watching people being trambled on with rushing cars on TV all the time. I hope the strong glue that's keeping Hussni Mubarak on his chair finally comes off, because the people living in Meydan Al-Tahreer just want to go home..free.