I'm Ayesha
I will die in seven days.
Until then, I decided to write.
I don't know how the writing is supposed to start, probably from a place like this... where everything is shrouded in doubt.
Writing seems like the only thing I can do.
I want to put a final point in the last line, before absence swallows me.
I have decided that my last days will be like this. I mean: like writing. The word is a fragile and crumbling being, it is like me. And I.. in my final days, I want to be as similar as I can be. I do it for me. These papers, this writing, this wound: mine.
This writing is not a documentation of my life. What has passed was not worthy of attention, everything has already ended, and this writing leads nowhere, and I do not think that I have lived a life that deserves to be dated. I write to be clear with me, alone with me, full of me. This writing does not heal, but kills. Death is good, and I want it with all my heart.
Pages: 230
To request more books by Buthaina Al-Essa:
1/ I grew old and forgot to forget
2/ Labyrinth maps
3/ A crash with no sound heard
4/ The Bride of the Rain
5/ All things
6/ The blind Sinbad
7/ A city with half a heart
8/ Qais, Layla and the Wolf
9/ Guardian of the World's Surface
10 / Under the feet of mothers
11 / Aisha descends into the underworld
12/ h
13 / Truth and writing
