The one who rocked my cradle with her song, she is my mother... And my mother is an old woman, as old as the most ancient inscription on the Nymphaeum. She adores olives and jasmine, and hums the tales of Amman, sowing them in my ear before I sleep... And I am her child, the sparrow of her dream, the star of her night, and what remains of the mist of her wishes... She named me, when she wrapped me in my swaddling clothes, the child of Ammon... I was born on the cusp of 'Tammuz', and I rolled in the herbs of 'Nissan', and 'Kanun' was but a season for a shower of warming melodies and a time for the flood of the stream before they covered it... In front of the Amphitheater's gate is my playground, where I flee after rubbing my eyes in the morning and recounting my dreams to my mother: I saw in a dream that I was weaving an anemone wreath, and leaning on an olive tree engraved with the name of Amman! She hugs me, murmuring the Fatiha and the Mu'awwidhatayn, and I slip from her hands, climbing the roads like a sparrow soaring over rooftops and in the alleys of neighborhoods, sometimes captivated by the scent of jasmine, and at other times choked by the dust of buses.

• Author: Mufleh Al-Adwan
• Publisher: Alan Publishers & Distributors
• Year of Publication: 2026
• Edition: Third
• Number of Pages: 112
• Dimensions (cm): 14.5 x 21.5
• Weight (g): 145
• ISBN: 978-9923-13-967-7