Pomegranate
Home always stays in your heart.
Its seeds remind me of the layout of these clay towns — everything close together, interconnected, yet carrying their own beauty and harmony.
Our property was quite spacious and divided into several homes where my family on my mother’s side lived. I had two wonderful grandmothers and grandfathers who loved and spoiled me.
I spent most of my free time with them: listening to their stories, reading books aloud, kneading dough and preparing traditional dishes together, stoking the wood stove in winter and feeling its warmth slowly spread through the house, tending the garden in spring, inhaling the scent of fresh earth and the first flowers, and in autumn, harvesting the fruits when apples and grapes smelled of sun and rain, I especially felt the coziness and harmony of this world.
I spent most of my free time with them: listening to their stories, reading books aloud, kneading dough and preparing traditional dishes together, stoking the wood stove in winter and feeling its warmth slowly spread through the house, tending the garden in spring, inhaling the scent of fresh earth and the first flowers, and in autumn, harvesting the fruits when apples and grapes smelled of sun and rain, I especially felt the coziness and harmony of this world.
When I arrived in Saudi Arabia, I was immediately captivated by the old clay towns. But I am not fond of restored ones—they lack the breath of the past.
And this is exactly why I chose the pomegranate for this painting. Its seeds remind me of the layout of these clay towns — everything close together, interconnected, yet carrying their own beauty and harmony. Each “compartment” is full of meaning, just like life itself, where all elements are closely linked, forming a unified whole.
The abandoned streets, however… there, I can almost hear the voices of playing children, laughter echoing from empty courtyards, see elders slowly passing on the wisdom of life, and smell fresh bread and warm milk mingling with the aroma of earthy spices. Every corner holds memories, and I feel as if I am returning to my childhood, to those evenings when the world was simple and safe.
Now, being alone with my son in a foreign land, I feel even more deeply the value of family traditions, genuine human relationships, and communities where people care for one another. These memories have become my compass: they remind me of the importance of keeping warmth and love alive, honoring one’s roots, and passing them on to the next generation, so that even far from home, home always stays in your heart
