From the twilight zone.  Text by Jihad Samra and pictures by Reem.

On my way back home, I took this polmant (big luxury bus that is considered to be the only thing that moves on time in this crazy country). I moved the curtains aside when we got on the 20-mile long highway and just watched the sun as it set.

The entire sky was clear, for it had been a wonderfully sunny day. Yet, two long thick stripes of grayish clouds ran parallel to the horizon, very much like those stripes you see when you're watching an old movie. The lower stripe was right on the horizon, giving an assuring sense that yes, the horizon is still there, and yes, it is straight from endless beginning to endless end.

The upper stripe was not regular in shape although more or less it was the same height as the lower one, but its edges were very wrinkled in sharp contrast with the linear edges of the lower stripe. Meanwhile, the sun was an incredible orange fireball that proudly stood as a pearl of some sorts in the middle. What made this entire panorama unbelievably unforgettable was the manner in which the rays of the sun cheated, creeping from behind the scene and shining the edges of the stripes. The wrinkled upper edge of the upper stripe looked like the tops of mountains from some fairy tale.

But the most amazing thing was that apart from this, the sky was so clear, making it perhaps the most vast painting stretching along a distance of twenty miles non-stop.
The twilight zone, that area between the known and the unknown, that location between the touchable and the untouchable, a place where a hairlet-width of reality separates you from finding yourself or losing it altogether. Usually it is so uncertain and scary, but for once in a lifetime, the twilight zone; I just looked at it, and despite everything, I could not think of anything that could be more beautiful, more tempting,
more seducing, and more inviting.