Habiba, as Nadeem told her | Novel

This novel opens up to two stories and two experiences, raising difficult and pending questions about love and friendship, emotion and reason, art and reality, fate and choice, and tracing the line from Ibn Hazm and Werther's Passion to WhatsApp and Facebook, declaring confusion due to the fluctuation of emotions and whims, and wary of a mysterious scenario, written elsewhere, while we imagine that we are the ones writing our lives. Did Nadeem write the novel or did she write it? Has reality been made into art, or has art created again a parallel reality that renews sorrows? “My heart was broken twice in ten years, and it is a terrible, unforgettable, indescribable, and never-healing break. However, I find myself amazed by a strange energy of life that makes me still able to read and write, watch movies, sit with friends, smile at a child, quarrel with a pet cat, laugh at a café in the middle of the country, bless two lovers, scream after scoring a beautiful goal, muffin a roasted ear of pearls, make a cup of mint tea at the time of the succulent, travel into space on the wing of Abdel Wahab’s voice, remember a pure smile and laugh, receive dreams of sleep and wakefulness, and celebration. With the light of the sun, the sound of rain, the smell of bread, the chaos of stars and birds, and the enthusiasm for beauty wherever it is and however it is found. Life energy that has no trace of will, and I have no credit for creating it. This is how I was created, and this is how I live. Oh Lord, do not deprive me of this energy that you have given me. The brokenness of the heart is compensated by the steadfastness of the spirit. I do not fear death, let it come as it desires and as you wish. But I don't want to die while I'm alive. Make me die the moment I lose the taste of the world and the colors of needs.”