The White Tent

I will crush the candy pieces endlessly
I will grind it into colored flour on the earth
So that the cigarettes mix with rainwater
He was once in Sukariyya
I will mix them like clay to make
"White" is an accurate term.

This is Ramallah in the morning. The city's narrative begins at a central roundabout, its beating heart, and continues for four hours, culminating at the Qalandiya checkpoint. Between complex relationships, checkpoints, walls, people's self-perceptions, and stories of places, can the narrative capture what disrupts the modern image in a search for personal truths and dreams that, despite their continued existence, are beginning to fade? The river.
I will mix them like clay.
And I make from them a fine powder of white words.
This is Ramallah in the morning. The story begins in the heart of the vibrant city square. Over the course of twenty-four hours, its chapters unfold at the Qalandia checkpoint.

Amidst the tangled relationships, barriers, walls, our self-awareness, and the stories of places, can the novel depict what disturbs familiar images, searching for the reality of the characters and their fading but very clear dreams?