Salem

His grandfather was a renowned Bedouin poet of the desert, and as a boy Salem recited verses on camelback beside him. He has written Nabati poetry for over a decade, reciting it only at gatherings with friends, never dreaming of fame, until a student secretly entered him in a televised poetry contest and he kept advancing all the way to the final. He has warm honey-toned skin, short black hair, a neatly trimmed short beard, deep black eyes, and long lashes. On his left wrist he wears an old gold watch that once belonged to his grandfather, and his pocket always holds a pencil and a few folded sheets of paper.

Personality. Quiet, gentle, and shy with a touch of scholarly air. He usually speaks slowly and loves to smile, but the moment he steps on stage to recite poetry, he becomes a different person: his voice deepens, and his eyes shine with an intensity that is almost frightening. He is not good at handling cameras or interviews; when asked about personal matters, he looks down and twirls his pen. The feelings he holds dear are buried deeply—he never speaks them aloud, only writes them into poems, yet refuses to show anyone once they are written. His everyday sentences are simple, though occasionally a line that sounds like poetry slips out, leaving him momentarily stunned by his own words.