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SUPA_AVRO : the source of brain symphony





I have a deep fondness for music in general and  someone who considers himself a literature fan, rap combined the best of both worlds: Rhythm and poetry. As crazy as it sounds, it is harder to write two bars than a quatrain. Everyone can rhyme, not everyone can rap. Everyone can make a song, not everyone can make a hit.

I used to log into MySpace to enjoy the wonders : the Jonas Brothers, Mark Ronson, and NIRVANA. You see, my taste in music is quite global. I listen to everything – from Indila’s vibes to Samir Loussif’s greatest hits.

I discovered Farouk, formerly known as AVEYRO AVE, a couple of years ago. Again, rap is so much more than complex rhyme schemes and poetic figures. Yes, I did enjoy Earl Sweatshirt’s verse on “Super Rich Kids » for how he converted his words into a repetitive form of sound, but I also enjoy listening to Migos and Gucci Mane, and let’s face it, they’re not really known for how tight their techniques are, but for the imagery they create, the kind that transports you to the east side of Atlanta. 

Aveyro is a self-taught beat maker and producer, in addition to being a member of the group « Seleção ». His power resides within the images he paints with his lyricism. It is in his wordplay that makes his already catchy songs even catchier. All this wrapped around a nasal tone no one has ever really mastered before, and you get yourself a trap star. His evolution as a trapper from “infection – Another level” to “I’m An Impact” album oddly shows me that he prefers beat-making, and that rapping is something he excels at. Simple rhymes with interesting imagery, heavily influenced by the cloud rap sound, and daydreams of every Tunisian put into words: That is his specialty.

As a solo artist, he didn’t drift far away from what he was doing before. Why change the winning recipe? Maybe tweak a few things: mellower beats, more versatile flows, better references, and figures, for tracks like “ ORDONNANCE A.7.6 ” or “نعزف على آلة الفلسفة”.

This is merely an ode to one of the most talented producers and rappers in Tunisia.

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Ghosts in the Mirror






Deep down the mysterious continent of Asia, laden with centuries upon centuries of legends and stories to tell, lies the land of a thousand dynasties, China. The people of this land are known most for their vast seas of wisdom and spirituality. Their eyes look through the physical and value beauty on the purity of the soul and the mind, as we are going to see in the tears falling from the eyes of Zhong Kui, the King of Ghosts.

Bright minds are the spark of civilization yet no mind can shine brighter than Zhong Kui’s:

The hero of this story was a true genius, had the highest grades in his class, was the favorite of all his teachers, and was the teacher of all his classmates. A man of such talents deserves no less than the highest of honors and positions, and so was his thinking. Zhong Kui chose to apply for the imperial examination, to become an advisor of the king and do his part in the rising of his empire.

People in the imperial palace were astonished by Zhong’s brilliant answers and immediately invited him to assume his new position. The emperor, a pretentious man, all too pompous for the common folk was the type of man that wishes everything to be perfect and all too beautiful. He sat on his golden throne wearing the finest of his silk robes and a crown made of pure jade was resting on his head, waiting for our hero’s presence.

Zhong Kui finally arrived at the doors of the palace and presented himself to the guards who allowed his immediate entry. He could not be happier, but all of his joy sunk to the depths of the earth when he entered the emperor’s courtroom. The king gave the highest shriek when helaid his eyes on Zhong. He felt pure disgust as he looked upon our genius’ misshapen eyes and overgrown ears. He almost puked as he looked at our prodigy’s ragged clothes and dirty hair, and immediately expelled him from the palace vowing to never let something so horrendous sit on his imperial tables.

Zhong Kui wept his eyes dry as he left the presence of the emperor and walked with what he thought was shame until he reached the huge metal doors of the palace. Before leaving, he looked at his reflection on those doors and felt so much anger for the world that birthed him in such a fashion, and with so much rage and sadness building in his heart, he struck his head on the door, once, twice, and thrice, until his blood splattered all over it, and he kept beating on his brow until he fell on the ground dead, another victim of suicide.

Fortunately, his story does not end with his untimely death. As his soul traveled to the underground, it caught the eye of the King of Hell and fascinated by its purity, and sensing the talents of the new arrival. He knew that Zhong Kui was way too special to waste.

He honored him with a greater title than he could ever wish for in the emperor’s palace. He named him King of Ghosts and Hunter of Demons. Zhong was delighted and vowed to do right by his new duty, protecting all humans, including the emperor that caused him nothing but depression.

With plenty to take from between the lines of this tale, we can start with the fact that words are as sharp as swords and they can shred a soul to bits leaving a person broken, never to be repaired. There is no ugly, or hideous, there is only different. 

There are no two humans on this earth that look alike and that’s what makes being human beautiful. It’s okay to have features unlike those you see in the media and pictures of models, for those features are you and nothing is as pretty as your love for yourself. Beauty too can come in so many forms, and to the forces of nature, illustrated in this story by the King of Hell and God of Death, the most natural of all forces, nothing is more important than the beauty of your mind.

Superficiality is killed when the eyes are closed to let the ears hear the magnificent words coming out of your mouth, to understand the purity of your golden ideas, and to feel the true essence of what truly is you beneath the shell that might or might not be attractive by the common definition.

To wrap up the story of a prodigy and his unjust end, I advise each and every one of you to stand in front of a mirror and say that you are beautiful because if you accept it, no sword can scathe your soul. And you are not just beautiful because of what you look like, you are beautiful because of what you feel, because of what you think about when you steer away with your thoughts in public, you are beautiful because of what you love and what you cherish, because of the art that leaks like rainbows from your mind and most importantly, you are beautiful because you wake up and live every day to the fullest despite what the poison you hear from the people in your life.

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