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Pages 101-168
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B e y o n d L o v e | 101 When I woke up, I wondered what this dream meant. Why had she torn her memories? And why had she been so sad and vexed? I then remembered that I hadn’t read her notebook for a long time. The morning light crept into the room, and Nadia’s annoyed face pursued me all day long, but it didn’t prevent me from making my way into those letters filled with impossible love. Who will convey my letters to you? I’m getting ready to travel. They say that the world has become a village; how then can I explain this burning feeling of separation ?And why does the world oppress my heartbeat and cast it outside its borders? I shouldn’t believe that the world is within my hands’ reach. It is huge, suspicious, and ambiguous, and it never stops separating me from you. Why should irrelevant faces repeat themselves to me, while yours remains scarce? No one conveys my letters to you, but I strive to write them anyway; perhaps by chance they will find their way to you. Despite this distance, your features are still pure and clear to me. Thinking of you makes you wholly present to me, as though we had never separated. Am I also present to you even though I am absent? There are many things I want to confess, my prince. Things are weighing on my chest and growing heavier, but they can’t extinguish the passion of my flame. It still glows even as other burning candles of my life go out, dripping and flaring. You are mine. I’m sure about this. But I’m afraid I won’t be yours after all this separation. What will I do with my heart then? I’m no longer a queen, as you used to call me. I’m only a wandering soul that doesn’t know when it will find its way back to you. 102 | h a d i y a h u s s e i n And in another letter: My Emir . . . Despair crept into my soul during my feverish search for you. In a cursed irrational moment, I thought about giving you up. Imagine! I gathered your letters and decided to burn them. That was before I left the country. I stood next to my mother’s oven, which hadn’t been heated since her death. I put in a heap of wood, poured a little oil on it, and lit it so that it glowed. I extended my hands to grab the pile of letters, but before I threw it into the blue flames, something pulled me back. Was it you standing behind me? I’m completely in love with you, my prince. When I first set foot in Amman, for a while I breathed in a strange scent. I immediately told myself that it was the smell of freedom and deliverance, but after a few moments I discovered it was your scent. Perhaps I was deluding myself. Anyway, I convinced myself that I was going to find you here. Basra had separated us, but Amman would bring us together. What a false hope! Days, months, and years have passed by; only a few days until I leave for Canada. Right now I feel overcome by despair. Amman hasn’t been kind to me, but Canada will be the same. Despair transforms me into pieces of ember and ashes, but I will stay strong. I have to resist until I see you. Suddenly, I felt as though something had touched me, and I was shaken. I looked around, sweeping the corners of the room, and remembered my dream. It was as though a ghost were sharing the place with me. I set the notebook aside and sought refuge in God. I began thinking about many things—meeting Moosa, calling Baghdad, the Iraqi [34.228.168.200] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 22:24 GMT) B e y o n d L o v e | 103 crowds at the Refugee Office. I saw Abou al-Abd calling out file numbers and Youssef’s face. But I was having difficulty picturing him, as if he didn’t want to be evoked. Youssef? Have you forgotten me, or do you prefer the hell inside our country? Are you satisfied with what you did when you got me the passport? Are you still waiting for new wars to come...