A Man Kissing His Beloved

Yemenat

Ahmed Saif Hashed

As the luxurious black car sped through the wide streets toward the circus in Moscow, I caught sight of a man and his beloved, intoxicated by deep love. He kissed her lips like a seasoned lover and then leaned into her neck with longing. Those kisses reminded me of what I once read about Rasputin, how he would envelop her in his arms and meld their lips together.

In that fleeting moment, I stole a glance at a scene of intoxicating love that settled deep in my memory, refusing to fade with the passage of time. Under a lush tree, beneath a sky that blessed this explosive moment of trembling passion, life surged with delightful existence. Souls were unified and intensified like a rain cloud, filled with the sweetness of longing that enveloped both spirit and body. Their intimate connection was adorned with the ecstasy of affection blessed by the heavens, destined since time immemorial.

We passed the scene, the car turning its back on the lovers, while my eyes remained glued to the horizon where that place faded into the distance. The speeding wheels crushed the space I longed to linger in, dissipating my hope and leaving me in the car, carrying the weight of deprivation and deep sorrow.

In the depths of my being, I stifled my anger at the driver, who did not grant me a moment to linger on a sight I had never witnessed before—one that had always been stifled by shame and marred by embarrassment. I had been consumed by the painful fire of love, shackled by the chains of a society deeply rooted in a shameful past. My life, whose first dream was a connection with the one I love, or a meeting with a beloved, felt more distant