Last Rose by N,
Acrylic and mixed media on A4 paper
Sally is a beautiful girl; she has graduated from Damascus University as an artist. Her dreams are as modest and sweet as her baby face. One day she hopes to have a show of her brilliant paintings.
On waking, she spends most of her time in Damascus streets drawing inspiration from flowers, walking along the Barada river, and going to the top of Qasioun mountain where she observes the beauty of Damascus.
One day Sally is sitting in a restaurant painting one of her wonderful pictures, breathing in the jasmine smells which spread through the air as a scent of hope for everyone. As she listens to the sound of water flowing a smooth and gentle hand takes her pencil and a voice says, ‘hi.’
Sally raises her eyes to see who this cheeky, sassy person is. She’s surprised to see a gentle guy with a cute smile on his lips.
‘How bold are you?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Give me my pencil back, you have broken my flow.’
‘Oh! I was only joking.’
Sally smiles, stands up and says, ‘It was a silly joke.’
The guy gives back the pencil, turns around and is gone without another word. Sally watches him leave. She wants to call after him, to say sorry, but her pride prevents her. She carries on with her painting, but his lovely voice, beautiful eyes, and wonderful smile stays in her mind. When she finishes her picture, in the corner she paints a red heart and writes, ‘Jasmine brings love.’ Everyone who sees this painting wonders why she chose this name for a landscape image. She shrugs and says, ‘I don’t know, it was my feeling at that moment.’
Sally wonders if she will meet the guy again, and wishes she knew his name. Unconsciously she takes her pencil and a paper and draws his face, his smile, his eyes.
Days pass so she forgets some things about him and pursues her dreams. She emails many exhibitions and sends them her amazing art. After a lot of rejections and silences, she has a response from one art gallery.
Dear Sally,
We have looked at your portfolio work. We admire your art greatly and would like to include your paintings in the next show on 8th August 2010.
Exhibition Team
SALLY CAN’T TAKE IT IN, she is so excited. Will my dream come true? Am I really going to have my own show and talk with other people about my art? Maybe I will sell one or two pieces but even if I don’t it doesn’t matter. All I need is to have my first show.
She feels like a falcon soaring over the Qasioun mountain catching the light of trust from the stars.
She prepares her pictures and arrives at the exhibition on the date her face is flushed with anticipation and her eyes shine. She opens the tall iron gates, enters the office, and speaks to the receptionist.
‘Hi! I am Sally and I have an appointment for the next show.’
‘Oh! Sally, sorry but I don’t have your name on the meeting list.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Just a moment I will ask the manager.’
She picks up the phone and calls the manager’s office… She nods as she listens, yes… yes.
‘Is there anything wrong?’
‘We are so sorry, but we have our reasons, but you are no longer part of this show. Maybe we’ll call you back later.’
Sally peers inside the office. She sees one of her fellow students whose art was never as good as hers, but her contacts help her. Nepotism is everywhere. Her starry trust light fades. Oh! This is who has taken my place? Sally is dumb struck with disappointment. Her eyes sting with tears. Jolted back by the sound of the receptionist’s voice she takes her bags and leaves without a backward glance.
Sally is so disappointed it makes her almost crazy. She screams.
‘They throw my dreams to their dogs!’ She feels like her dreams have been crushed under the nepotism that is everywhere in her college, in her society. How can everything be about who you know and not about the talent you have? It doesn’t matter how talented I am…
She gathers all her paintings then opens her bag, picks up her lighter and, in her fury, is about to burn all her work. From out of the blue a smooth, gentle hand takes her lighter from her and a firm voice asks, ‘What are you doing?’
Sally raises her teary, sad eyes to see the guy who had broken her flow. Her voice is full of dejection as she answers: ‘How can paradise contain such monsters?’
‘Sorry for the intrusion. Could I be so bold to ask your name? I am Samer. I know we have met before, but the situation was different. Let’s start again!’
‘Hi Samer, I am Sally, of course I remember you. I want to say sorry if I was arrogant last time we met.’
‘No at all… I admire your confidence; Sally, I want to tell you about a saying from my grandfather.’
Sally wipes her eyes and looks into his eyes with a hidden smile saying, ‘If you want to tell me your grandfather’s life story, let me introduce you to Nofra café.’
He feels her sadness and at once says, ‘It will be my pleasure.’
They walk together from one street to another on their way to Hamedia market, the most famous in Damascus. They jostle their way through the crowds and pause at one store or another, criss-crossing the two sides to some stalls selling clothes, traditional goods and coffee. In the heart of the marketplace Sally feels her drumming heart, the beat of Bakdash and her own heartbeat echoing each other in the sounds of the hammer-like movement of an Arabic ice cream maker.
They buy two cornets of ice cream. Samer hands Sally one and looks at her face saying to himself, Your tears were arrows in my heart.
Sally looks at Samer and asks him if he would like to take a Shisha with his coffee and he replies, ‘You and Nofra café and Shisha will be amazing!’
Sally smiles and answers with her eyes.
At the end of Hamedia they stop in front of Umayyad Mosque. Samer asks Sally if she knows who built it. She says, ‘Yes, of course, he is Alwaleed ebn Abd Almalek, one of the princes of the Umayyad age.’ Sally passes her mobile phone to Samer and asks him to take some photos of her looking up at the huge dome, standing among the cooing pigeons, raising her hands to the sky in the great yard inside the mosque. Samer scrolls through the photos before handing back the phone, placing his hand in hers.
They continue walking, hand in hand, until they reach the Nofra café. Samer moves one of the chairs, ‘Come on my lady have a seat!’
The whole atmosphere is calm and the sweet smell of ‘Two Apple Shisha’ attracts everyone around. Samer calls to the waiter and asks him for two cups of coffee and an apple Shisha, but Sally calls the waiter back again and asks him to bring some powdered milk.
‘You didn’t ask me about my grandfather’s saying.’
‘Yes. Please tell me, I am interested to know his great wisdom.’
‘Everyone in Damascus should be brave and strong as this city has been.’
Sally’s eyes widen. Slowly she opens her bag to retrieve a piece of paper and tentatively places it by the coffee cup.
It is the painting of his face she drew before. Now she picks up the powdered milk and shakes a white heart on top of the coffee and writes on his drawing: Falling in love with you will save my soul.
All her friends have known what was hidden in the landscape paintings dedication and this new one… even if Sally always answers the same way: ‘I don’t know, it was my feeling in that moment.’
One day Sally is sitting in a restaurant painting one of her wonderful pictures, breathing in the jasmine smells which spread through the air as a scent of hope for everyone. As she listens to the sound of water flowing a smooth and gentle hand takes her pencil and a voice says, ‘hi.’
Sally raises her eyes to see who this cheeky, sassy person is. She’s surprised to see a gentle guy with a cute smile on his lips.
‘How bold are you?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Give me my pencil back, you have broken my flow.’
‘Oh! I was only joking.’
Sally smiles, stands up and says, ‘It was a silly joke.’
The guy gives back the pencil, turns around and is gone without another word. Sally watches him leave. She wants to call after him, to say sorry, but her pride prevents her. She carries on with her painting, but his lovely voice, beautiful eyes, and wonderful smile stays in her mind. When she finishes her picture, in the corner she paints a red heart and writes, ‘Jasmine brings love.’ Everyone who sees this painting wonders why she chose this name for a landscape image. She shrugs and says, ‘I don’t know, it was my feeling at that moment.’
Sally wonders if she will meet the guy again, and wishes she knew his name. Unconsciously she takes her pencil and a paper and draws his face, his smile, his eyes.
Days pass so she forgets some things about him and pursues her dreams. She emails many exhibitions and sends them her amazing art. After a lot of rejections and silences, she has a response from one art gallery.
Dear Sally,
We have looked at your portfolio work. We admire your art greatly and would like to include your paintings in the next show on 8th August 2010.
Exhibition Team
SALLY CAN’T TAKE IT IN, she is so excited. Will my dream come true? Am I really going to have my own show and talk with other people about my art? Maybe I will sell one or two pieces but even if I don’t it doesn’t matter. All I need is to have my first show.
She feels like a falcon soaring over the Qasioun mountain catching the light of trust from the stars.
She prepares her pictures and arrives at the exhibition on the date her face is flushed with anticipation and her eyes shine. She opens the tall iron gates, enters the office, and speaks to the receptionist.
‘Hi! I am Sally and I have an appointment for the next show.’
‘Oh! Sally, sorry but I don’t have your name on the meeting list.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Just a moment I will ask the manager.’
She picks up the phone and calls the manager’s office… She nods as she listens, yes… yes.
‘Is there anything wrong?’
‘We are so sorry, but we have our reasons, but you are no longer part of this show. Maybe we’ll call you back later.’
Sally peers inside the office. She sees one of her fellow students whose art was never as good as hers, but her contacts help her. Nepotism is everywhere. Her starry trust light fades. Oh! This is who has taken my place? Sally is dumb struck with disappointment. Her eyes sting with tears. Jolted back by the sound of the receptionist’s voice she takes her bags and leaves without a backward glance.
Sally is so disappointed it makes her almost crazy. She screams.
‘They throw my dreams to their dogs!’ She feels like her dreams have been crushed under the nepotism that is everywhere in her college, in her society. How can everything be about who you know and not about the talent you have? It doesn’t matter how talented I am…
She gathers all her paintings then opens her bag, picks up her lighter and, in her fury, is about to burn all her work. From out of the blue a smooth, gentle hand takes her lighter from her and a firm voice asks, ‘What are you doing?’
Sally raises her teary, sad eyes to see the guy who had broken her flow. Her voice is full of dejection as she answers: ‘How can paradise contain such monsters?’
‘Sorry for the intrusion. Could I be so bold to ask your name? I am Samer. I know we have met before, but the situation was different. Let’s start again!’
‘Hi Samer, I am Sally, of course I remember you. I want to say sorry if I was arrogant last time we met.’
‘No at all… I admire your confidence; Sally, I want to tell you about a saying from my grandfather.’
Sally wipes her eyes and looks into his eyes with a hidden smile saying, ‘If you want to tell me your grandfather’s life story, let me introduce you to Nofra café.’
He feels her sadness and at once says, ‘It will be my pleasure.’
They walk together from one street to another on their way to Hamedia market, the most famous in Damascus. They jostle their way through the crowds and pause at one store or another, criss-crossing the two sides to some stalls selling clothes, traditional goods and coffee. In the heart of the marketplace Sally feels her drumming heart, the beat of Bakdash and her own heartbeat echoing each other in the sounds of the hammer-like movement of an Arabic ice cream maker.
They buy two cornets of ice cream. Samer hands Sally one and looks at her face saying to himself, Your tears were arrows in my heart.
Sally looks at Samer and asks him if he would like to take a Shisha with his coffee and he replies, ‘You and Nofra café and Shisha will be amazing!’
Sally smiles and answers with her eyes.
At the end of Hamedia they stop in front of Umayyad Mosque. Samer asks Sally if she knows who built it. She says, ‘Yes, of course, he is Alwaleed ebn Abd Almalek, one of the princes of the Umayyad age.’ Sally passes her mobile phone to Samer and asks him to take some photos of her looking up at the huge dome, standing among the cooing pigeons, raising her hands to the sky in the great yard inside the mosque. Samer scrolls through the photos before handing back the phone, placing his hand in hers.
They continue walking, hand in hand, until they reach the Nofra café. Samer moves one of the chairs, ‘Come on my lady have a seat!’
The whole atmosphere is calm and the sweet smell of ‘Two Apple Shisha’ attracts everyone around. Samer calls to the waiter and asks him for two cups of coffee and an apple Shisha, but Sally calls the waiter back again and asks him to bring some powdered milk.
‘You didn’t ask me about my grandfather’s saying.’
‘Yes. Please tell me, I am interested to know his great wisdom.’
‘Everyone in Damascus should be brave and strong as this city has been.’
Sally’s eyes widen. Slowly she opens her bag to retrieve a piece of paper and tentatively places it by the coffee cup.
It is the painting of his face she drew before. Now she picks up the powdered milk and shakes a white heart on top of the coffee and writes on his drawing: Falling in love with you will save my soul.
All her friends have known what was hidden in the landscape paintings dedication and this new one… even if Sally always answers the same way: ‘I don’t know, it was my feeling in that moment.’
Note from the author:
For Islington Centre for Refugee and Migrants and Sita Brahmachari: I would like to say thank you very much for this experience. It has improved my English skills; I have learned many new words and that some words have two meanings. Also, I have understood the tenses used and most importantly I have written a good story. Thank you all.
For Islington Centre for Refugee and Migrants and Sita Brahmachari: I would like to say thank you very much for this experience. It has improved my English skills; I have learned many new words and that some words have two meanings. Also, I have understood the tenses used and most importantly I have written a good story. Thank you all.
Fuad Alsohli is from Syria, where he had studied Information Technology at Damascus University. His first work was in 2009 when he shared his brother in the short film Fight Through Time. Afterwards he set up a Facebook magazine, Altal Electronic. His latest work is a novel written in 2019 entitled The Love with Covid.
N has been a regular contributor of the Islington Art and Writing Class for many years. She studied art as an undergraduate and postgraduate both in her homeland and in Britain. Her paintings and sculptures have been exhibited widely.
N has been a regular contributor of the Islington Art and Writing Class for many years. She studied art as an undergraduate and postgraduate both in her homeland and in Britain. Her paintings and sculptures have been exhibited widely.
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