On a Carpet of Snow

Emily Nasrallah

The scope of Emily Nasrallah's words knows no bounds. Time and space accompany her, two eras carried in her luggage on a perpetual journey; from village to city, and from the age of the carriage to the age of the jet. She travels by airline across pages, through lands and atmospheres, to wherever the magic carpet lands. This time, it has landed on a carpet of snow, where the world begins or, rather, where it continues... There, where the sun hangs over the horizon for six months, a period that must be considered meager, and where the cloak of night embraces a white carpet in a grey dance for six months, the writer spent a period in a moderately icy embrace, among people who wear two outfits, one from heritage and the other from the civilization of the age. But Emily Nasrallah's journey does not end. It is before our eyes, and on silent, delightful lips, where words transform into images, depicting human life on this earth. The world of words knows no bounds of time and space when spelled out by Emily Nasrallah. It accompanies her, carrying her luggage on an endless journey, from village to city, and from the era of carriages to the era of jet planes. It is a world of eternal travel across pages, in distant lands and atmospheres, to where the magic carpet lands. And it seems this time it has landed on a carpet of snow, where the world begins, or rather where it ends... There, where the sun remains suspended on the horizon for six months, the duration of its long, scarce visit. Where the cloak of night embraces a white carpet in a grey dance for six months. The writer spent a period in the embrace of a warm, icy environment, among people who wear two outfits, one from heritage and the other from the civilization of the age. However, Emily Nasrallah's journey does not end. It continues before the eyes and on the lips that whisper silently, where words transform into images, representing human life on this earth.