Girl's ornaments made of iron and silk

Zeina.. a girl made of iron and silk. When the heart beats, you must open the door. How tender are the hearts of lovers, and I am one of them! So what if the one knocking at the door is Zeina? Zeina is not the title of a novel as much as it is a novel of chapters from my life, a pulse of my life, most of which I have exhausted, and what remains is in the hands of the Most Gracious, in the belly of time and days, and one day the moment of departure will come. And so that this life will not have been in vain, I wanted to beautify it with a story, and what a beautiful story it is when you write while you see on the computer the spectres of people you loved who have departed, and you wait for the moment to meet again. Perhaps it's more than a novel, for it's crafted with ink unlike any other. When a father writes about his daughter, the words reveal another revelation, more like that of jasmine. From this revelation, the words flow to tell the story of birth, upbringing, and the pain of scoliosis, along with the journey to find a cure, all the way to the dangerous surgery. Zeina's journey with the world of art is a different story. It tells not only the story of an artist, but also the pain of a father during moments of separation. From the film "Habbat Lulu," Zeina's debut, the journey of investigating this artistic journey from a father's perspective begins. Not only did she capture the abstract artistic side, but she also explored the final work, "Shatti Ya Beirut," and Zeina's famous cry: "Baba," which opened the windows of the father's heart to a similar cry that would one day become a reality. And from the cry: Dad, the tap of memories opened from childhood until today through excerpts from Zeina's life, with her academic excellence and the medals that surround her neck, to her bedside conversations in the family home that complained about her absence, to the teddy bear... the toy hidden in one of the drawers of the house's closet. With Zeina, I kneaded my letters with my father's poems and my mother's dough... How delicate poetry is when it is wisdom, and how delicious bread is when its yeast is emotion! Zeina... a girl of iron and silk. It was not a novel by chance, she was only hidden in a father's heart until the time came... It was a poem in which she was the heroine, and I was the narrator.