In a hazy universe made of recomposed memories, muddles desires, and silent wounds, a man sits alone in his living room, staring, lost in scattered memories: Nasser’s 1956 speech on the nationalization of the Suez Canal, a musical show from his childhood. Gradually, the partitions shift, rise, and collapse; the domestic space tips into a floating world, where intimate memories, past and present intertwine, as if in a dream.

Drawing on bold cinematic and scenographic language, Al Warda — the rose in Arabic — is an autofiction that choreographs the gaps of memory, the violence of exile, uprooting and the desire to belong. Between troubled nostalgia, fantasies of elsewhere, and the impossibility of return, the work draws on political and family archives to create a dialogue with those buried in the body.