Thus sang Abdelmoula!

It was a long day, one which seemed like it would never end. I could feel the exhaustion creeping throughout my body. My joints felt heavy, and there was a slight uncomfortable yet somehow enjoyable pain which triggered with every muscle i moved. The thought of that joy oozed a sense of grave disgust at myself and my masochist tendencies. I had never realized how exhaustion could translate into pain within one's body when faced with hope. A hope to lay a pained body to rest upon a surface. It did not matter what kind of surface it be; It could be hard, small, full of dirt, or riddled with thorns. What mattered was for the body to succumb to its debilitated state, to fall prey to the cold embrace of a bed which ached for its owner's warmth all day. And so, almost with a pain driven limp, i hurried along to my secluded abode. Each and every step i made was one being pulled by a joyful, yet sinister sense of hope. Today was one of the few days i was grateful i lived alone. Despite lamenting the loneliness, the cold atmosphere and the never-changing state upon which i find the house every single day, today, i felt forever grateful for the calm.

Upon completion of my daily preparations for bed, like a sleep deprived hyena, i used the last bit of energy i had at my disposal to sprint towards my bed, all the while letting out occasional giggles in excitement for the wave of blissful feelings my entire body was to splash against; from the top of my head to the tip of my toe. As i lay my head on the blue pillow cover my mother bought me as a gift for my moving out, my already heavy eye-lids felt as if they were being pulled down by the heaviest of weights. I, of course, was more than happy to oblige to what my eyes beseeched of me. Darkness flooded my surroundings, i could feel the exhaustion seeping from my body, into my bed, like a liquid being poured from a kettle into a cup. Memories from the day painted the darkness, it gave it colors, and soothed my mind as it traversed through the now colorful abyss. I remembered the children who lined up to cross the road, the scent of the flowers which caught my eye with their rainbow-esque assortment. I also remembered the girl who smiled at me; her curly short hair, her beautifully symmetrical features. I had never been so charmed by another person before, could this be what they call love at first sight? Or was i merely bewitched, held captive in a trance within the palm of her hand. I wanted to remember the event in greater detail because it brought me a great sense of comfort and happiness. I was walking towards the tram station which i regularely took to go about my daily chores. She was standing a few meters away from me waiting, like everybody else, for the tram to arrive. Birds were chirping, a burst of warm familiar laughter errupted every now and then, and there she stood looking at me with a half confused expression. I must have reminded her of somebody she knew in the past, perhaps an old lover, perhaps a deceased brother, but the smile which shined on her face almost brought me to my knees. My eyes frequented between her lips and her own eyes, staring in a fixated sense of awe, or was it admiration? Whatever it was had moved every atom in my body. My ears, however, picked up a foreign sound which i did not remember. It was the chirping of the birds which was growing louder with every chirp. In a matter of minutes the peaceful sound of the birds turned into a bellowing roar which invaded my ear-drums. The intensity of the sound exorcized me, expelling me from my heavenly dream back into painful reality. Half-asleep, i focus all of my functioning senses in an attempt to locate the source of the nightmarish sound. Behind the glass of the window resonated what now felt like rhythmic chirping. My sleep-drunken and sensitive ears picked up that rhythmic chirping as loud as a man shouting at the top of his lungs. The chirping now no longer felt random, it was systematic, following a specific order. Every two seconds the bird chirped twice, the first chirp was high in tone, then the second followed in a slightly lower one. At this point, my long sought after sleep was in danger; and this fact angered me a great deal. I thought about approaching the window in an attempt to scare off the miserable creature; my body, however, quickly made the impossibility of that idea clear when, even moving my finger felt like 10 years of hard labor. I suddenly felt my anger channeling into my throat, and i let out a roar which spelled the words "SHUT THE FUCK UP". Silence broke through the room once again, without a sound echoing through the room other than the beating of my heart and the panting sound of my breath. Feeling a hint of victory, i turn back to my pillow, puffy-eyed with a smug grin on my face. I was able to sink back to my very own neverland, and my sleep took back its track to the very end.

The incident with the bird became part of my routine. The bird decided to nest in the window, and so everyday, by sun rise, the wretched chanting begins which i end with screaming of my own. Sometimes i think it is because of this that i came to accept the little bird. He offers me an escape from normality in which i can let my frustrations loose. I decided to name the bird Abdelmoula simply because of how ridiculous it sounded. The once empty house, haunted by loneliness, now danced to Abdelmoula's rhythmic singing. And i, at long last, found a reason to look forward to coming back home.