"Once I dreamed of narrow alleys,

Or Kremat’s Shanashil.

I dreamed of children with eyes,

And women with hearts.

I dreamed of the confused young,

And mothers on the streets of Baghdad;

Searching for bread and oil,

And for a cup of tea.

I wondered: why am I here?

While they are starving there?

My friend!

In Baghdad, my memories were

Sketched in shades of pain.

I forsake my friends for a glass of wine,

I etched my sadness on a layer of ceramic."

-Dreams,

My Last Thoughts About Iraq

The Art of Paul Batou - Paintings

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