Exceptional Friday (part1) Upon the sweet singing of birds and the shining light of the sun, I wake up to prepare myself and get ready for another Friday journey. It's always a feeling of happiness that encounters me when I look from my half eyebrow window, glancing the wide green field stretches from the Orange River on the east to the squat woodland on the west. I tingle a fresh breeze coming out from the surrounding bushes, and walk away with this cheerful call from nature. After having a shower, I dress in my white grey-lined djellaba, wear my tarboosh and some other accessories that I often wear just for tradition's sake. In fact, that's far away from the humble attraction "human-human", but something beyond as my mom puts it, "Look son, you're not meeting anyone, it's Allah whom you're meeting!" Allah is beautiful and loves beauty, yet it is mentioned in the Qur'aan that beauty is among the purposes of Allah’s Creation. After visiting my grand-parents' house, which I often drop by to wish them a good day, then my grand-father and I head to the mosque to do our jamaa'ah prayer with thousands of people all heading the same way, dressing and praying the same as well. Walking down the streets of my suburban town, I usually perceive a deliciously savory aroma coming out from different spots, but actually it's the same as if it is a symbol of unity that carries the soul of a great dish, the one which rules and possesses all the dishes in food's kingdom, it's the powerfully flavorful "couscous". I intend to take the long way to my flat, the thing which allows me to enjoy the sight of people hurrying back their ways in a cheerful mood, they have a picture in their minds, a scalding round dish with all its constituents that combine to make up an unbelievable match for either taste and appearance, is waiting on the table calling for blissfulness, grace and ecstasy. It happens this time while I'm on my way back home, I notice that something is missing there, something weird is going on. I'm used to hear my mom's sweet voice, my little cousin's crying, and my grand-mother's mumbling from outside the house. Moreover, I'm used to smell my beloved couscous from over a long distance, but now all of these vanished as if something unfortunate is happening. A feeling of fear mixed-up with hope and anxiety haunts me, "What happens to my family? Where are they? Are they still alive?" I keep repeating these questions until I reach the threshold of the house.

First Trial Hello everybody! It's nice to see all these people around, each one helping the other so as to make a better world. However, this is my first time to write a notebook entry, and as anyone, the best thing to do first is to introduce oneself. My name is Imad, but be aware that initial letter "I" in Arabic is quite difficult to pronounce! Continuing on, I'm 19-years-old; which means a college student, therefore the best major to take is English, and that's why I'm here. That was logic, isn't it? Talking about my country, it's located on the top of the African continent, they call it the Europian bridge, but I call it Morocco! Anyways, I think that I've overused these exclamation marks, sounds good! There is no harm in doing that unless one is earnest, unfortunately I'm not!!