My pain and longing I have expressed with my words. My pain when I recall the aroma of my home soil after the rain. I reach for a handful of it but find nothing but empty spaces of painful homesickness that I have turned into a novel.
A novel of the eastern female, about a culture, its ruins, about the feelings within us. About the control of a man's world, masks, truths - and there was Farah.
Some may consider it a biography of me, others might see it as a story of what I have witnessed but Farah is a mixture of the life of many who have lived what she has lived. It has some of me, you and her.