Al Aalaqoun

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When I started writing this novel, I discovered what is called “migration while writing”.. When I wrote it, I imagined that I had left for a place I do not know.. I visited many places, some of which were like the remains of ancient cities, while others were vast spaces as if they were endless space..

Those cities had no clear names, nor were the places maps preserved in memory... so I don't know where I went while writing, nor where I came back from....

But I'm certain I've detached myself from that supposed gravity that binds us to the earth, to the point where I felt as though I'd been absent from my body for hours. I was overwhelmed by words and events to a painful degree... the noise was relentless, as if a multitude of characters were telling me their stories simultaneously, chattering endlessly... until I became easy prey for anxiety. My tension would increase with every phrase I missed writing down... it was as if words were swarming above my head like a bee swarm... some words arrived accompanied by a truly irritating noise...

I would wake up from my sleep to write, stop on the side of the road to write, take advantage of red lights to write, finish a phone conversation to write, and cut short a meal to write.

Then all of that faded away... with the writing of the last word in this story that caught me off guard... and became a novel!