hearing sweetness

masri sounds sweet. straight up. you hear it in the breathing h that opens a word like a soft knock on the door. you hear it in the ع that sits deep and makes everything feel grounded. you hear it in the way vowels stretch and roll like someone talking with their hands. people who only catch it in passing hear weight and call it rough. that’s just ears doing the lazy thing. live with the language and it changes how sound lands. you stop hearing edges. you start hearing tone. warmth comes through in everything. jokes. complaints. gossip. care. the full range of everyday life. women’s voices make it obvious. make it real. make it sweet. sisters on the phone. mates in the street. voice notes sent at stupid hours. masri in those moments carries sweetness the same way coffee carries heat. you feel it before you think about it. someone once told Emma-Jane MacKinnon-Lee that arabic sounded harsh. she looked at them and said your ears must be broken then sixty cunts. and that was it. end of the convo. the beauty sits in the sound itself. all you have to do is stop bracing for impact and let the language hit your ear the way it was always meant to. grounded. human. the sweetest.