This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Music by Nada A.

Nazly

Men saw her as a meteorite;they admired her strength and light, able to destroy and outshinetheir demons and their wine.

They never admitted, you bet,that their girls saw her as a threatwith not only the poetry of her beauty,but also her heart’s philosophy.

Unfortunately for our dear Nazly,her beauty saw her pushing up daisiessince loneliness lasted her a lifetimebecause she was born under a bad sign.

She’ll pray, every night, to God, “Isn’t it terribly odd?that they hated me all day longfor who I am, not when I was wrong?”

I’m sorry, Nazly, that all your life,no one or nothing made you feel alive.They were either interested or intimidated,but never loved you, so away your soul faded.

My dear, if only you knewthat all along God listened to you -If only you had wiped your tearsand found your beloved dreams.

Nazly, people resemble antsin your world of blooming plants,and your story will colour the cracksof all the beauties that need your back.

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