Description
While sorting through my old papers in a neglected drawer in my office, I stumbled upon a notebook from my first year of high school. It was labeled “Composition Homework.” It was 1944, and our Arabic teacher had asked us to choose a topic for our next composition class. I chose “The Diary of a Child Named Suad,” filled the entire notebook, and gave it to the teacher. He read it and gave me a zero.
Perhaps this “zero” is what made me stop writing for so many years, what made me choose medical school over arts school, and what, were it not for my parents, would have ended my life like Suad’s. That’s why I decided to publish these old papers and dedicate them to every girl or boy who has ever considered writing or feels the urge to do so.











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