Q: You come from a mixed marriage (your mother is a Serbian – Greek origin, and your father, the Iraqi), how much the combination of different cultures is affecting you and where the cultural heritage of (ancient) Iraq is present in your literature. Is the Eastern Spirit in you, or is it still Western, modern and materialistic?
A: It would be romantic to imagine that I was an unusual personality in which two opposing cultures, religions, traditions were united, that in the collision of the East and the West unknowingly, through the veins, the verses overlap, and the eastern stories are running.
It would be exotic to say, like Leo Africans, whose personal adventure was reconstructed in the book: “I am a son of the road, and my country is my caravan.”
As such, I define the antithesis of the tribe because I do not belong to any city, nor any path, nor any end or beginning of the world, nor I come both from Europe or Arabia ”
What falls to my mind, answering this question, is that many would like to see me classified somewhere not realizing that the beauty of my whole “defiant” personality lies primarily with my cosmopolitan spirit that does not belong to anyone. I’m a stranger among people, with the feeling I do not belong to anyone. My Arab origin was traumatically disputed in Serbia and Serbian in the Arab world. I was and I remained, in both cultures, discriminated against in all possible and impossible ways, so I am a writer who for personal reasons is interested in mythology, philosophy, religion, and that it is not dictated by the genitive component of affiliation with Arabs. This applies also to the Serbs. /element (this is just one element … for example, I do not define territorial, cultural or linguistic communion with the Arabs) Also, I do share only territorial (at the moment and wish not to…) and linguistic communion with the Serbs. As for culture, I am not sure about that…
I’m a stranger who is hiding in the shadows of the night I tumble between the walls, whose fear cannot be rid of, for I have come to the utmost memory, until the end of mystery, in a life that is a crowd of sad and tragic stories, not one, but more life without leaving apart, and what I write is just a hidden choice to appear on the canvas of creation.
In this and such a world, I have created my own ancient literary homeland in poetry and prose which often overlap. My deprivation has given me an insight into the oppressed, the neglected, the borders are eradicated, the religious, the national, the cosmopolitan identity is created. The imagination destroys and creates the worlds and the universe, I’m walking eras and worlds, through space, as in a dream. I stumble like a ghost in a stormy night somewhere, trapped, confused in the darkness of the human dream. My solitude lasts three thousand years.
So my literature is marked by fragmentation, confusion, soaked with anguish and non – affiliations to both nations.
That way, my mark has determined the only safe place for me and this is the place between the worlds, the place in which everything merges what is otherwise separated because the boundaries exist only in the limited minds. And who would, if not a poet, be able to overcome impenetrable, to touch ineffective and to approach the separated worlds