I try to write my concerns with their human aspects and the broad language of literature

You are like the dervish of my soul wandering the temple of my loneliness.

I multiply.

I sing of love in your blaze.

Love from the seasons, I read and you know what you can and cannot read.

The cross of pain, the weather vane of love and the incessant whirlwind of loneliness.

I am unique.

You are my partner.

My belly cracked in the fountain of love and my inspiration hidden in the navel stone, sometimes I'm a peasant girl and I grew up with you and got excited with you...

You, my dear reader…

I, on the other hand, am the miserable commander of the literary world, who writes the dip with an inexhaustible inspiration, but they know me as an amir, and I am one of the others without a command, and as soon as my Lord says "write", I get excited and overflow the embankments.

Love is a burden for some.

Love is an emigration.

Love is not a play, love is the meaning of existence.

Those who slander are those who wither love.

The women with work make up the name of love.

My age is insignificant and I am a city girl, sometimes I want to migrate to the village, sometimes I want to move away from the world, it is most difficult to reconcile with myself, and here I have finally embraced myself in writing and I did it because of you, my dear reader.

you are in my eyes.

It is hidden in my heart and…

You are the unknown and the known is my exuberant soul, and I know that a world where I scribbled with the magic of writing is actually a utopia...

We are separated.

We are forgotten.

We were neglected.

We were buried in the ground.

Who are we?

What is our problem?

I slept through the days, dear reader, at night, I knew a place, a temple, a cellar, and thanks to my pen, I share whatever I know privately.

While I've always been deceived, people take a lifetime, and the interesting thing is, I'm human too, and I didn't deceive a servant of God, nor did I bleed for a lifetime.

As true as I bleed, if I bleed…

I am happy with you, my dear reader…

I don't write for others to read: I write only for you because I love you and it's me who cares about you and some people don't care about what I write, dear reader...

I have loved you for nine years without interruption.

While I was writing my first word and figuring out the field, I know in the world of literature that I have a long way to go, but you know what?

My first wish was to leave myself exactly ten years ago and day by day this feeling took me captive and because of you I gave up leaving myself. Because it is you who make me love me, just like I love you, I managed to be read to myself with this communication between us...

I loved you without permission and you did not object to it.

Because I did not oppose my Lord and digest what He has given me to all my cells:

The pain in my chin is gone.

Because I came to myself with the call of my Lord and my path crossed with you...

There are so many people around me and they suffer from my writing, but while you are reading and we are loving each other, no one cares, dear reader:

What I care about is my desire to put the overflowing sea into words, and your wish is to read what I wrote and to be worthy of you day and night.

Because you deserve the best, and I found happiness in writing and in you.

None of us are permanent in this world, but thanks to this communication between us and every sentence I write, I know that my feelings, enthusiasm and love of writing are permanent.

As I write, I feel that loneliness can never hurt me. Because I connect with the people I write and tell, I participate in their lives, I become a partner. This is how I forget my loneliness.

Hundreds of thousands of sentences that I have written are the heralds of my love of writing and that I am born again and fly every time I pick up my pen, and I am grateful to you for this, my dear reader…

This is the loneliness of the writer, and I fill it only with writing.

And as the beloved author said:

I'm watching what's going on and trying to interpret it. I read, I try to write my thoughts and concerns with their human aspects and the broad language of literature. Most importantly, I love this job, which first gives me reality in my own eyes.