Jean Hatoum - Author

  As I embark on this journey of pouring my heart out to you, it feels like unwrapping a gift I didn't know I had – the gift of blogging. You see, for the longest time, the small town in South Lebanon that cradled my childhood had little room for the whirlwind of social media and technology that now defines our interconnected world. In those years, dreaming was a luxury I couldn't afford, and my days were consumed by work rather than the pursuit of passions.   The turning point came a few years ago when, like a curious explorer, I stumbled upon the vast realm of social media. It was a revelation, an awakening to a digital landscape I had only heard whispers about. The idea of expressing myself on a platform like Blogger became a beacon of light in a world where my voice had been muted for far too long.   In my exploration, I chanced upon a video that promised not just a platform but a chance to turn my words into something more tangible – a way to earn a living do...

  Dear Readers,   Welcome to my little corner of the internet! I am thrilled to embark on this blogging journey with you. As I step into the world of Blogger, I envision this space as more than just a collection of words on a screen. It's a haven where masks fall away, raw emotions are laid bare, and authenticity takes center stage.   In a world often filled with filters and façades, I aspire to be my authentic self here, free from the noise of external expectations. This blog is a sanctuary for genuine connection, where we can meet without pretense and share the untamed essence of who we are.   In the upcoming blogs, I'll delve into my passions – people, songs, and short stories. These are the threads that weave the tapestry of my life, and I can't wait to unravel them with you. Each post will be a canvas painted with the colors of my interests, inviting you to explore and resonate with the hues of my experiences.   As a newcomer to the blogging sphere, I'll be...

  My name is Jean. I come from Lebanon, from a life that was not gentle. For a long time, I believed silence was the only way to survive. But when the mind becomes a difficult place to remain alone in, you have to find a way to move the pain out of your body. For me, that way was writing. I recently published a book, I Wrote So I Would Not Fade . It was built carefully from the wreckage—an attempt to map out what trauma actually looks like, and what survives after it. But a book is an architecture. It has walls, a shape, and a final draft. This blog is not an architecture. This is the floor where I drop the leftover words. Not every thought gets a cover. Not every poem gets a stage. This is the space for the unpolished things—the old stories, the scattered thoughts, and the fragments of honest rubble that just needed somewhere to exist outside of my chest. No deadlines. No pressure. Just a quiet room where memory, pain, and tenderness sit without needing a purpose. I don’t care ab...