Tag Archives: A time for stories to share

My Life in Parts: Theatre. . . Part |


Salam dear all.

In this ” My Life in Parts” section of the blog, I will try to share with different stories and parts of my life. I hope you’ll enjoy it. Your feedback is always important.

Today, I want to share with you my story with Theatre. Theatre was a big part of my life in a certain period of my life, and sharing this with you is very important for me.

Actually, all this started thanks to the YaLa program that I’m taking part in. In one of the tasks, we were asked to write about an event or anything in our life that had an important impact on our life. I decided to talk about my favourite world as a child: Theatre.

For those of you who don’t know, I was a part of a theatre ’club’ when I was a kid, and so, this is my story, Part 1.

story to share

A good time 😉


Theatre: My own Peculiar World

This story is not finished… yet.

In a world of cruel reality
It is somehow compulsory
To find a way
To stay away
To find magic
In some paculiar world of magic.

My story starts with a dream, a decision, and determination. It was at the age of 10 that I decided to be an actress (not for a lifetime though). I was that kind of kid who wants and thinks herself capable of doing different things at once. Our primary school organized annual auditions/training for an annual school play. And that year, I was determined to be part of it. It was a very professional play for a primary school performance. There were auditions and training before getting to be picked.

I loved acting mainly because I love anything that was magical, anything that was peculiar. And for me theatre has all the necessary ingredients to be the most magical thing in the world.

For days, all I could think of is that play and how it would be beautiful to be part of it. I was obsessed. I started imagining myself in different customs, playing different characters, and performing memorable performances. I would wake up on a Sunday morning, stare into the mirror, and start talking to myself, crying with no particular reason, then laughing out loud just for the sake of fun. That’s how I felt about acting, FUN. I even convinced my little sister to join me although she was not fond of the whole theatre thing. OK, to be honest, she hated it. I would act out different scenes in front of my parents. I loved playing the villain, just for the sake of making the evil laugh. Seriously, who wouldn’t love performing the ” muwhahaha” laughter.

It was Sunday morning, cold, cloudy, and beautiful. My favourite kind of days. I woke up early, woke my sister, got dressed. We were about to leave when I noticed that it is unusually dark outside. I checked the time to find out that we still have more than one hour to leave. I was that much excited. We sat at the kitchen table, waiting.

After the auditions and the training, I got picked for a main role in the play. I was very happy and proud. The play was called ’A Sheep Called Mabrouk’. It was about a small sheep that goes missing, the aftermath of this event, and the reaction of the whole forest.

Looking back, I realize that the play was full of symbolism. I played the bear, the wise character in the play, who is the leader of the forest. Somehow in that play, the lion did not have much role to play except attending the celebrations. It was the bear that gives all the rules. The bear was a wise leader, wise enough to care about its people, and to make them the only priority. This character did whatever it can to find the lost Mabrouk, a single ordinary member of the community. That taught me that any capable human being can be a leader. You don’t have to be the lion. You just need to be you. You just need to care.


To be continued. . .

Talk to you soon insha’ALLAH 😊 😊 😊


A Story to Share…


Salam dear friends,

A good time ;)

A good time 😉

Today, I’m really happy cause I’m going to share with you a story that I wrote months ago 🙂 🙂 🙂  The story is about… 😉

No No, I’m not going to tell what the story’s about. You’ll have to read it to find out 🙂 😉

Hope you’ll like ❤


The Garden of Words



         I have always believed that words are a powerful weapon. They can hurt you, or be your best friend… I have learned this lesson a very long time ago, when I was still learning about the reality of the charm and innocent life of days and decades past. A reality that turned out to be a mistaken one.


         I was fourteen, when I found myself alone, completely alone. My parents decided suddenly to move out to another city, and I was surounded by different people, different streets, and no friends. What made my life more sad and difficult is the fact that my parents were happy. Actually, they were very happy that they did not notice how I felt. I lived in a beautiful house, a house that I did not want to live in or remember, a house with so many rooms, or shall I say with too many rooms. We did not use the kitchen on the second floor, half of the rooms were empty, and I hated it. Living in that house was not a choice, it was a thing that I had to bear.

          Near this house, there was a garden, and this garden was where I most belonged. The garden was not like what we would imagine a garden like. It was not like what we would see in movies, or read about in books : rocks were everywhere, some four or five olive trees, and magic was the story behind every single corner .

          When I first went there, I did not want to be there, but somehow I stayed. I stayed not because of the colors nor the trees; I stayed because something deep inside told me to do so. Every summer day of that hot strange summer, I was there. I went there looking for something, but I did not know where to look, how to look, or even what to look for.

           Each word tells a story, and a garden full of words has always been a place where stories begin and end.


         One day when I was walking as usual, a woman called me, and I went closer. She was an old woman, with an elegant outfit. What I liked the most about her was her smile, a beautiful smile that makes you believe for an instant that life is good, everything is going to be fine, and you’re going to be happy. She looked at me, and the first thing she said was : Smile, stop being sad. I stared at her for a minute or so, then I walked away withoud saying a word. I walked home, and I thought that I could have said something ; something like « thank you » or «  I ‘ll try ». I could have said anything, but I did not.

          After meeting her that day, I came back every day wishing to see her, talk to her, and maybe apologize.

          A week later, here she was, sitting in the same spot, looking so beautiful and calm. I walked towards her, and she smiled, and before saying anything, she said : « Have you thought of what I said before, have you even tried to do it… you’re still young, forget your silly little problems and smile » after a pause, she added : « look at those people here. Each one of them have a way of thinking of their own, a life, and problems, real problems. But, they still come here smiling, trying to forget, to forgive, and to change, or just to be here. ».

         I did not know what to say, and I don’t think I said a word. It was that kind of moments where you just need to listen. She gave me that look again, the look of comfort, and started telling me about her life. She was a strong woman, who lived and survived despite what happend to her. She married the love of her life, believed in him, and trusted in every word he said. This perfect husband destroyed her life : he lied, cheated on her with her best friend, and made her life a living hell. She told me that when she discovered that her entire life was a lie, she stopped believing. She gave birth to one child, a boy that made – and I quote- her life worth living. At the age of 15, her little boy died, and she became alone, sad, and miserable.

         She came to this garden, the garden of hope, as she described it, for the first time 20 years ago.She was sitting in the same spot, started talking to different people with different  stories. Their stories made her see life as Beauty itself.


       After seeing her life through her eyes, I respected her more. I wished deep inside to have the passion she had, the love she represented, and the power she owned.

        « Life is a great teacher, a teacher with different ways of teaching. A teacher that punishes you, smiles back at you, gives you choices, and takes from you privileges » she once told me, when I asked her about her unconditional love to life. She added « life is not about being alive, life is Living ». She looked at me, a look full of words, and gave me an advice that no one could ever forget : « Do you want a friend ? A teacher ? Open a book, and start reading : that is your best friend, and your teacher. You will see life in a whole new way, you’ll change, and feel the charm of the simple goods in life. Read, but don’t forget that there is a life beyond books, live it. Always believe in yourself. You may think you can’t do it, but you will… Always believe in yourself.» After hearing those words, I smiled, and she smiled back.

           Suddenly, I had something to look up to, something to tell people about. Suddenly, I had a person to be a friend with, a place to belong to, and a life to wonder about. In that summer, I learned to live, to love, to forgive and to change. In that summer, I started seeing the beauty around me. Suddenly, I respected how my parents felt, and I was happy for them. More than that, I was happy. Suddenly, I started looking to the sky, and realising the pure beauty of it. I started smelling the aroma of roses. I started hearing the music in every corner.

          The garden of words, a place where you can be the center of your world. A place to share stories. A place to begin a new chapter of your life.


The whisper of the trees,

The song of roses,

The talk of strangers,

A garden full of secrets, full of stories, full of words.

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