In an old diary, I had written these lines describing the place where my childhood house was located. (The English translation is mine).

In the smell of honeysuckle, in the flight of the butterfly among the flowers in the garden, In the rays of the sun touching the date palms at sunset, in the secret opening of the evening flowers just after dark in the silence and the solitude that makes you grow up in the glances of my mother and grandmother who continue to haunt me to this day, The house of my childhood is found...