Olympic anthem | Novel

In one of the neighborhoods of the city of Latakia, located on the Syrian coast, Alia lives, who is twenty-nine years old. She holds a degree in English literature from Tishreen University. She has a meek face with eyes that look like two transparent bottles with half water and two roses, long, wavy black hair, and breasts that encourage art enthusiasts to draw them in the air with their thumbs. She likes the human condition that runs through her veins, and there is a state of familiarity with the mistakes she makes from time to time. She hates perfection, and condemns the plans that some people follow to achieve their big goals. She moves slowly, which gives her an overwhelming feeling of freedom. Even when she goes for a morning jog on the seaside promenade, she feels relaxed, and even if she is rushing, she deals with the world as if it were a slow kiss between heaven and earth. She is the one who remembers how she got a small wound on her hand when she was young, and she watched it. Then she extended her hand towards the sun to see how the blood coagulated on the skin, and on the second day she saw this dried blood like her innocent face, which hides many things behind it. She loved the nature that occurred over that wound, and on the third day she watched the dry crust cracking on its own, as if there was a new birth on her hand. She even liked the concept of the passage of time, and at this age she always sees that the concept of time has a strong relationship with language, whether it is a spoken language, or a language that circulates between a person and himself, and this is what makes Alia appear beautiful in her inner world, even in her moments of brokenness.