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Rania Attafi’s Stardust

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« The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of star stuff » 

– Carl Sagan –

 

 

Inspired by this particular quote, a product of nocturnal labor and sheer youthful talent was brought to life.

Stardust is Rania Attafi’s first published booklet, containing bits and pieces of her own thoughts, her own being and tremendous passion for writing.

Each poem is categorized under a specific theme ranging from Feminism, existentialism, uncertainties, love, and loss. Her enthusiasm for constellation and astronomy were reflected in her choice of characters such as « Leander » in the poem bearing the same name.

Our young author is postmodernist about her work. The booklet is supposed to have a mysterious flavor for the sole reason to drive her reader to contemplate and read between the lines. In her own well-spoken words « I’d like to assume that my reader is smart« .

 

 

Now hold on a second, who is Rania Attafi? 

She’s most and foremost a proud feminist, and then she’s an introvert.  She’s currently 23 years old, doing her masters in English literature at Manouba’s FACULTY OF LETTERS AND HUMANITIES (That’s just how Google Translate rendered it), with Tabarkian origins (I just made Tabarkian up).

She also claims to be terrible at expressing herself.

Her reading journey started at the age of five with a curiosity for the Arabic language which was then changed to the English language at the age of thirteen. Since then, she’s read hundreds of books with an average of over one hundred books per year (so she claims), her favorite genres being poetry and sci-fi.

 

 

However, aside from reading and writing, she has developed a case of Cinephilia.

– You can check her Youtube channel, Facebook page, and Instagram account Book lovers –

 

I personally tried to ask the tough questions and here are some of the ones she answered:

 

1- What’s your most hated question?

  • Who’s the boy you write about?

2- What’s your favorite part of the booklet? (she was pretty reluctant to answer at first, but I was persuasive. The price I pay to bring you the truth people)

  • The third part? (just buy the booklet)

3- Top 5 authors?

  • T.S.Elliott
  • Sylvia Plath
  • kurt Vonnegut
  • Anne Sexton
  • Allen Ginsberg

4- Books to recommend?

  • Waiting for Godot by Samual Beckett
  • Howel by Allen Ginsberg

(for more, just check her Facebook page, Youtube channel and Instagram)

PS: At her loyal request, I’d like to mention and thank her Agent, dear friend, and Co-founder of her online community Book lovers Habiba Alaya for being all of those things mentioned and then some more.

Should you like to get a copy of her book:   http://www.ceresbookshop.com/2593-stardust.html
Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNfNfaHcTQXEGxZzq0b7I0A
Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/bookloverstn/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/book_lovers_tn/

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Maman, j’ai peur!

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Maman, j’ai peur.
Tout le monde me regarde.
Tout le monde veut que la catastrophe s’attarde. Maman, j’ai peur.
Il m’appelle d’une voix douce.
Ses mains avancent et me caressent. Tu m’as appris à être gentil
avec les gens qui sourient.
Alors je me tais.
Alors j’obéis. Maman, j’ai peur. Pourquoi ne m’as-tu pas appris
que mon corps m’appartient ?
Pourquoi ne m’as-tu pas appris
à dire : non, je te l’interdis ?
Maman, j’ai mal.
Mes jambes me disent de courir.
Ma gorge voudrait crier.
Mais le son se brise
contre le silence des grands.
Maman, tu m’entends ?
Où étais-tu
pendant ces deux longues semaines ? Je t’ai cherchée quatorze jours
dans chaque coin de la maison,
dans chaque bureau,
dans les yeux des responsables. Un enfant a besoin de sa mère
comme la mer a besoin de la lune
pour tenir debout
dans l’obscurité.
Maman, je me sens sale.
je porte en moi les empreintes du diables. Lave-moi.
Je veux retrouver mes vêtements d’innocence.
Mais ils ne sont plus là. Qui les a brûlés ?
Est-ce que tonton les a volés ?
Je ne veux parler qu’à toi.
Les adultes baissent les yeux.
Ils me disent d’attendre.
D’attendre encore.
D’attendre toujours. Mais tu es en retard, maman.
Tu me promets
de ne plus partir ?

Un texte de: Emna Harzallah

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