A Local Voice

I was born in Dubai, my voice first broke between the creek and the gulf, it was carried on the northwesterly Shamal winds, over the rolling dunes of the Rub al-khali, to quench its thirst in the oasis of Liwa, then unto the stones of the Al-Hajar mountains to find its home on the cost of the gulf and like the dhow that sailed unhindered to the cost to find it's way back home to me.

The First Chapter: A Book With No Face!

It was my arrival at the end of my sentimental journey and upon getting some horizontal refreshment for the tired soul of an idle and vertical fellow that I discover, much to my astonishment, that my need to ride a dragon upon St. George was actually a metamorphosis of a soul entangled with the curiosities of it's time. So, blowing off the groundsills I start an extraordinary journey of internal self discovery and a love for the night physic, even if it was going to kill me. Nevertheless, putting the good foot forward to put the devil into hell, I start like all the good men that came before me, with the soul purpose of serving the long and hard tradition, that is to say, immediately.