It is a village I know as well as you know me. It represents the beginnings for me and the last coast and port.
She is the one through which I awaken the past. She is present with me. I write her once here and dozens in a notebook of memories, in which I find an origin and an image of space and time.
The building was and will remain a memory for generations, not a generation, and through it we seek to rewrite this connection through a beautiful face that has accompanied me since that appearance.
In its people, goodness is evident, and in its geographical location, symbolism, some of which are found on the faces of its inhabitants.
I left her and she did not leave me, and I still sing to her and praise her, and I wished to be a poet in order to say to her in the manner of the full moon, "If I say poetry, you would not lie."
This year, her youth dressed her in a different suit as a developmental entrance to a village in which there is a legacy, which made the palace overcome to preserve the identity and perpetuate a history that is not disputed.
(2)
I love Jeddah, as for me she is “Ghada Haifa”, but nostalgia for the village fills me, as through it I find before me the stories of the beginnings and its beauty, and through the walls of our house in the “building” the memory makes me cry, and the image takes me to faces in which my ambitions have grown and through which I live grief over her passing.
(3)
I wonder what is left for me in your memory, my village? Do you remind me of a question that provokes the memory of the place? As for time, it has drawn on the wrinkles of my face, and her face is still in my eyes, as I loved it the first time.
(4)
My brothers in the Northern Ardiya municipality, give the people of the building a little bit of what they deserve.
Ahmed Al-Shamrani