Do Uzbequistão ao ROL, Xasanova Aziza Kumushbek qizi!

Aziza Xasanova traz ao ROL a literatura do Uzbequistão, país das cidades milenares na antiga Rota da Seda, com a espetacular arquitetura islâmica de azulejos azuis!

Aziza Xasanova

Xasanova Aziza Kumushbek qizi, 22, natural de Chirchik, região de Tashkent, Uzbequistão, mais conhecida como Aziza Xasanova, é estudante da Universidade de Economia e Pedagogia de Tashkent, da qual, em 1º de março de 2025, recebeu o título de ‘Faculty Zulfiya’, prêmio outorgado em um concurso promovido pela universidade, concedido a professoras e pesquisadoras em países da Ásia Central, em especial no Uzbequistão, em homenagem à célebre poetisa e ativista uzbeque Zulfiya Isroilova.

Publicou diversos artigos científicos. Seus poemas e contos foram publicados em vários jornais, revistas e sites ao redor do mundo, dos seguintes países, dentre outros: Albânia, Paquistão, Itália, Estados Unidos, Reino Unido, Alemanha, Índia, Argentina, Turquia, Arábia Saudita, Uzbequistão, Quênia, África, Coreia do Sul e Bangladesh.

Aziza Xasanova se apresenta aos leitores do ROL com o conto My dear (Meu querido), que traz como elementos da história o realismo mágico, destino e amor platônico

My Dear

Imagem criada pelo ChatGPT – https://chatgpt.com/c/6a171d19-0520-83e9-8793-954e3aacc0f1

In one of the streets of Paris, the city of love, lived a girl whose heart shone like the sun. Her name was Lucy. Lucy was naturally very beautiful and charming. Her long, flowing hair and beautiful blue eyes reminded one of the calm ocean. Since childhood, she loved books very much. She was quite different from her peers. How, you ask? While others were learning to ride bicycles, she preferred to be alone with the characters she loved in her books.

As usual, Lucy was passing by Monsieur Champlain’s bookstore when she saw that new books had arrived and couldn’t contain her excitement. Her eyes fell on a wonderful book titled My Dear. Curiously, she picked up the book. Monsieur Champlain smiled and greeted her, “Lucy, I knew the new books would interest you.” “Yes, of course,” she replied, taking the book home.

As she opened the first page, one sentence caught her attention: “Hello, I’m glad you are thinking of me.” She smiled at this line; it was funny but strange because the author’s name was not written anywhere. Turning another page, she saw a line that said, “I know you smiled today after reading my words.” And indeed, she did smile.

Reading the sentence, “My dear, protect yourself; you are one of the rare people before me,” her heart skipped a beat. Since she had not yet met the person of her dreams, these words seemed written just for her. Her dream prince was exactly like that: handsome, kind, pure-hearted, a bit taller, and most importantly, someone who loved books and enjoyed horseback riding.

Even though her peers laughed at Lucy, she paid no attention. According to them, love was nothing real; they only cared about a groom’s appearance and lineage. But Lucy thought differently. For her, it didn’t matter where someone’s heart came from; what mattered was to find a person who would understand her without words.

Many young men in the city tried to win Lucy’s heart because she was the most beautiful girl, but she did not care for any of them. Believing that every book must have an author, Lucy flipped through the pages and found a name: “I’m waiting for you in the streets of Zurich, with love, Edward.” Her heart jumped as she read this and, without finishing the book, took it with her and headed toward Zurich.

Lucy didn’t know where to find Edward. Opening the previous page, she read: “We will meet one day at the café on the edge of the city. My heart is a flower.” These lines melted her heart. She desperately wanted to meet and talk to the author of the book. But fate had other plans for her.

When she arrived at the café, there were not many people. She ordered coffee and began reading from the first pages again. One sentence said, “If you come, we will have coffee together.” At that moment, her coffee arrived, and the waiter said, “Lucy, you don’t seem to be from around here.” “Yes, I’m a traveler searching for the author of a book. I haven’t seen him, but I want to meet him,” she said.

The waiter smiled and said, “That’s Edward, the author of this book. Many girls come every day looking for him but never find him. If I tell you, this book explains how to meet him, but most people only read it superficially. You must read it with your soul. Then you will find him.”

As Lucy read the next line, “Maybe you are drinking coffee without me and cannot taste its flavor, just as I never understood the taste of coffee without you,” she truly felt the coffee had no flavor. Holding the book, she left the café.

The words, “What do you say to the seas, just like your eyes,” gave her more passion. On the edge of the city, in a cozy place surrounded by trees, she stopped and thought, “I’m lost.”

Suddenly, a young man came up to her. He had a gentle voice, slender build, long legs, and eyes just as beautiful as Lucy’s. He was very simple but strikingly handsome. “Can I help you, madam?” he asked. “I’m lost. Is there a nearby hotel where I can stay for the night?” Lucy replied.

He said, “Yes, not far from here. I can show you the way, if you like.” Seeing the book in her hand, he said, “I suppose you are also looking for Edward.” Lucy nodded, “Yes, I haven’t finished the book, but I drank coffee with him.”

“How is that possible?” he asked. Lucy answered, “I felt his presence beside me, as if our souls were already acquainted, even if our bodies weren’t.”

“I also drank coffee with him in my heart,” she added. “Isn’t that strange? Every word he wrote seems familiar to my soul. For example: ‘Without you, I searched every moment of my life,’ or ‘Don’t dream of dancing a waltz without an umbrella on rainy days with anyone else.’ He loves the rain just like me. I love walking in the rain without an umbrella. There is a bond between us — understanding.”

The young man smiled. “Strange indeed. We are two people under the same sky, connected by our souls but separated physically.”

“Why are you smiling, sir?” Lucy asked. “How can you recognize him if there’s nothing else about him in the book?” The young man replied, “I feel him in my heart. I came to hear the words of love in this book from the author’s gentle voice.”

They reached the hotel without noticing how the time passed. “By the way, I forgot to ask your name. Thank you for your help,” Lucy said. “My name is Lucy. What about you?” “Mine is Edward.”

Edward — the very person Lucy was searching for — was right there. “You are the first person to find me. I just finished writing the book, but everyone reads it from beginning to end and then searches for the author. You found me searching for my soul and heart.”

Their eyes met — it was love at first sight. Edward said, “No one ever understood me until you. But you felt me.”

Lucy’s dream prince was Edward. Two hearts joined by fate, bound by just a line of love. No matter how many kilometers separated them, Lucy and Edward found each other. They became precious to each other. The distance of love was only words; their hearts and souls were already familiar.

Two souls connected by spirit never imagined that one day, they would meet on the streets of Zurich and fall in love at first sight. Fate’s gift to Lucy was Edward, and to Edward, it was Lucy. Yes, those who sincerely desire will one day become their own destiny.

Aziza Shasanova

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