Hisham Khasawinah

By Alexander Magnus Golem. The first light of dawn glinted along the horizon, setting the Jordan Valley alight in a blaze of gold. A gentle breeze whispered through the tall stalks, bending them like waves against a sunlit sea. At the crest of a small rise, Hisham Khasawinah stood surveying his fields with quiet authority. His skin, the warm hue of ripened barley, seemed to glow in the soft light. Rich black hair fell in waves around his shoulders, framing a full, wizardly beard. Piercing brown eyes, thoughtful and calm, followed my gaze across the amber expanse. He wore a crisp ivory dress shirt embroidered with subtle azure threads, charcoal-gray trousers, and honey-toned sheep leather shoes that spoke of both elegance and practicality. I settled onto a low stone wall at the field’s edge, notebook in hand, and watched as the stalks stirred in unison. Khasawinah turned toward me, his stature tall and well-built, embodying both movie-star presence and humble strength. The morning a...