November 19th 2016, Bucharest, Romania
I have said it before, I believe in destiny. As a young student, when I was learning how to write I had my left hand all dirty with kohl from the pencils that I used to paint my first letters (not really I knew how to write before going to school). That was because I was dragging my hand on what I had written or drawn. As you probably figured, I am left handed. So was my mother, but back in Romania’s communist period this was a handicap, so she was obliged to write with her right hand. Of course, genetics did its job, so there was first grader me writing with my left hand. Among others, the most important argument which convinced my folks to send me to school was that I was writing, but backwards, I was starting from right to left. This is probably why writing in Arabic seems so natural.
17 years later, I am starting over. I learn the letters, a, b, c …, but in Arabic this time. I write from right to left, I write the question mark other way around, just how I used to do, how I felt doing before going to school. I had to learn how to write all over again to fulfill my destiny.
I look at the side of my left hand and it is all dirty, but this time I have red nails and tomorrow I go to court.