My friend Haider, we used to live our days together, stealing moments so I could be by his side and learn poetry from him, while he stole time to try new things. One day, on the beach, we broke free from the poet Haider was inside and decided to make him jump over the railing on the Corniche street so we could cross the road faster.
That night when we stayed out in the streets of Gaza until one after midnight and he was trying out something new with friends for the first time, I remember how your phone kept ringing nonstop.
I remember his smiling face. I remember how much we laughed that day.
Haider loved to experiment and take risks. I was happy when he told me about his visit to the West Bank and Jerusalem and the prophecy he heard near Al-Aqsa that I would become creative and special.
Dear Haider,
I was able to escape the war with my body and I had reached out to you to do the same but you were afraid that was the first time I sensed fear in you. I knew you for your love of choice and adventurous spirit. Our sessions at Babaroti, my friend, with your unforgettable smile and laughter.
Haider loved taking pictures lots of pictures at Yaraat meetings board meetings even when we were with friends at the café. He would snap photos obsessed with capturing them creatively.
For Haider, creativity was simple the camera’s ability to catch our laughter and mistakes.
Today our photos dear friend remind me of everything. I hear your laughter inside them.
I hear my grumbling as I say “Blackish is falling apart we’ll be shooting all day.”
Lately before the war began we met several times a week we laughed and recorded our laughter my dear friend.
Life is no longer rosy. I don’t see you anymore and I’m not writing because I’m afraid for you I’m writing because I miss our laughter together.
I miss my beautiful friend.
My one small wish stay adventurous so we can meet again.
