I wasn�t yet nine
years old when I started taking that long road - alone - from my
home located in the church neighborhood to the monastery hall in
the west side of the neighborhood. The distance amounts to
approximately one kilometer; this is the same road I frequented
every day of my childhood to reach my school
Constantly marching on foot to the monastery hall, neither the
blazing heat from the sun, nor the cold winter rain could ever stop
me from reaching there. I would climb up on tree branch or pile a
stack of stones to peak through the small window in the back of the
hall. There I would watch the organizers sending all children back
to their homes.
I spied into that
strange magic which attracted me to stay there until darkness of the
night would fall, and where I would have to take that long road home
alone, again.
I did this for years throughout my childhood, whenever I knew that
the Jerusalem Group (Al Hakawati Group) was in the village. This was
my ritual until I had the chance to closely watch the masterpieces
of this group, and I became one of those spectators who got to sit
inside the hall.
I carried my dream
and ambition along with my innocent lure and innate adoration and
put them to an unprecedented challenge; until I reached Jerusalem,
to Alhakawati Theatre�
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