Portraits From Words: I- Purgatorio

Portraits From Words

I- Purgatorio

ده اللى هيخلى الاسكندرية تروح لبنان...


There is a magnet hidden somewhere in my body that attracts darkness, and them dark people are two types; those whom you regret knowing and those whom you are grateful you knew. Purgatorio was of the second type and he wasn’t a genius kid. During school days, he probably gave up his lunch to bullies in the men’s room and wasn’t the type of guy whom the captain would immediately pick for the football game. Let me tell you, he has had problems with his voice since he was two… and was nicknamed “Bango” for he always sounded slow like someone who smoked a lot of cheap Egyptian weed. Bottom line, Purgatorio wasn’t the flashy kid at school and currently he’s not one of those flashy successful business men in their late twenties who never get food stuck between their teeth and never ever let their skin show between their pants and socks. And in those “mediocre” details, lies all his greatness.

In my opinion, Purgatorio is a muse and is a pillar of support. He has had it the hard way, for the past quarter of a decade. Nothing turned out well for him, he has enjoyed the whole bouquet of bullshit, yet he never whined. Amid the bouquet’s peaks and classics, he’d check out on the ladies of his life and make sure they are alright and busy watching TV – then he’d have his own few moments chasing dragons.

It can get a whole lot frustrating to convince Purgatorio to write and not rip off what he wrote right away, even though to my eyes, he is the most talented writer. However, regardless of the art behind his words – his stories were able to move a city like Alexandria to want to go to Lebanon to kneel on its knees to his Snowhite asking her to be merciful and to allow things to be fixed. This Snowhite business requires books to be written and I am not the person and this is not the place. It is enough to mention that Purgatorio… isn’t the giving up kid. And in this lies further greatness.

But God won’t just let us be – or at least won’t let him be, for they obviously share a lot of unfinished business. Purgatorio now feeds on gin – yes, the most bleak of all spirits – every night, spends his day earning MS certificates with all its permutations in a white-collar sense that doesn’t go along with his darkness, spends his free time contemplating Lebanese asses as he sips on Starbucks products, spends his elevator times with Indians who make everyone uncomfortable… and secretly thinks about his long-missed old lady or about Snowhite.