An artist wandering through creativity.
Swat Valley is where I opened my eyes and took my first breath.
It is a place of snow mountains, quiet meadows, and old forests, and I fell in love with it long before I understood what love was. A part of me has been wandering through it ever since.
I started writing a long time ago. The first words I ever shaped were in English, shy and unsure of themselves.
Later I turned to Pakhto, my mother tongue, the language my heart speaks when no one is listening.
Someone close to me read what I wrote and saw something in it. Share your words with the world, they kept telling me. So slowly, quietly, I began to.
When the chaos erupts in my mind and the fire burns my heart, the pain becomes the words, the scream becomes the pen, and the universe becomes a page.from Zankadan, forthcoming
This is where my words come from. From the noise that will not quiet,
and the fire that refuses to fade. I have not stopped since.
I write about love and about faith, about the world outside and the world within, depending on which one is louder that day.
I have chosen to stay anonymous. With no name and no face to hold onto, I can finally be honest, and you can find yourself in the words instead of finding me.
Those closest to me know who I am. I trust them to keep the quiet.
Hope you enjoy your journey with me,
fellow wanderers.
your friend,
rebel x