Girl in a bag

Heba Helmy left her seat in front of the painting and the color palette, undoubtedly due to artistic necessity. In her last exhibition, "Old School," there was more than one portrait of her. Here, too, in the texts of this book, she searches for herself. This is not narcissism at all, quite the opposite.
Perhaps what captivated me about these texts was their utmost simplicity and openness to various interpretations. Texts that are difficult to classify, as much as they are difficult to declare something specific or limited, as the writer herself did not reach specific meanings. Heba Helmy's writing may be one of her attempts to reconcile with herself, and achieve what resembles peace through writing, so it touches the heart and is engraved in the soul on As captivating manner.
The narrator searches for herself as a child, a woman, a mother, and an artist aligned with the revolution and the people. Heba Helmy writes what has not been written about illness, pain, Jeddah, Mecca, doctors' clinics, and the struggles of love and fear.
She writes about "the joy of peeling deep wounds," about that moment when "we loved ourselves while we were together, we loved ourselves as we love to be" when the sun of the revolution shone for a moment.
And finally...these texts as they were written are in one of them:
"Nostalgia for a dream that never happened."
Mahmoud Al-Wardani