خلخال

We're Still Here             Thought. I don't think we have ever celebrated your birthday. It's a shame really. Do you think it's too late to start? We could celebrate it there, if they aren't killing some more people next December.             Memory. I still remember you with your banner, and your red polo shirt telling me to meet you by KFC. I don't think it was there that we became so close, maybe earlier. I don't remember.             Desire. I don't want this to be just rambling, I want it to be a "beautiful text" like you say. But the more I think of how beautiful I want it, the more difficult it gets. So I will just write your own testimony, I don't have one of my own. My only testimony is that I'm still breathing – but that's human biology. Tahrir November 2011 Your phone call wakes me up. You're there, I know you are. You ask me and I tell you – unashamed – "in bed". You'

Why do I write? I remember the first story I wrote; it was called Butterfly and it was so dramatic – I was a drama queen from an early age. The story that followed it was also dramatic. Conclusion: I am a drama queen par excellence – or however you say. I enjoy telling stories. I love it. It is my favorite part of a social gathering: telling this story and animating it and doing all the voices. These were probably early signs of my love for acting. I just only recently realized that my passion is theater. But before that, writing took up my world. It still does, but in different manners. I'm talking about this because I'm trying to understand why I write. I enjoy telling stories. However, it is not only that. After all my energy has been thrown all over the place, after I've laughed, cried, loved, and done everything in a period of 48 hours, I retreat to myself. I realize that I have to sit with me. I don't really like doing that. Me i