@PenPals 15 March 2022

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.**