and then our exile

Assalamu'alaikum wa rahmatullah.
Some thoughts, and then I go for 'isha.
The myriad landscapes and instances of glory the world is witness to are, as a whole, intense with a beauty which, were we to truly, truly comprehend its extent and the truths behind its very existence, would be enough to overwhelm all of humanity in a tidal sweep of pain ["the terrible fragility near by..."--George Elliot Cl*rke] and heart-throbbing Being.

We left this morning relatively early, after I tried [to no avail] to warn Someone of my imminent arrival with photographs, and drove through mist shrouding hills and trees and lakes and sloughs made transluscent by way of the rising sun...got dropped off near Farooq's, but then instead went on a walk, arriving Somewhere without getting lost through the byways of applewood and rosewood and briar-bramblewood and all those same old. I then turned Highwayman myself, though I left my Telus hat at home--ransacking photo-albums. [the highway man comes riding, riding...--though the inn-keep's black-eyed daughter, here, wasn't left dying in the darkness, there, but rather returning to breakfast.]

This morning, I grabbed some clothes before I jumped into the shower, and ended up with my SUNIA tshirt. Not really the most opportune choice when visiting Farooq. ^_^ But, he made no direct comments, and so I hope 'twas all good. Hah.

The smell of freshly-cut cedar is, to put it bluntly, a fragrance esoteric in its implications. Once again, putting siding onto The Shed On Which We Will Keep On Working Until I Am Bought A Bridge In Brooklyn. Noor and I actually went for a bike ride before Maghrib. My mother has announced that we have two weeks of indian summer now [i! had! a! strawberry today! ...a rose-garden in bloom!], and so I intend on going biking every day... last year, I'd explored everywhere within ten kilometers of here, or so, but this year I've been fairly limited. Except of course for the cul-de-sac near The Motley's. And, I go to the SWC on Monday, iA.

I enjoy working with Ummi. Today, for example, she was cutting the cedar boards while I put them on...we were making up all these beautiful parodies [oh, say, can you see / by the star's early light ... and if my hair / is too short / then my hair is too short {etc}] while Usman kept making faces at me. I do believe I'm in love with him. But: the word 'love' has been crucified by Western civilization. Some of you have heard my standard lecture on the topic, so I won't repeat it here, but, basically, know that I use the word for expressions of sincere appreciation encompassing everyone I care to know.

Usman grows and makes us grow in ways we never knew. Tomorrow, inshaAllah, I post a picture on Here. And you must all comment on his exquisite-ness, lest I, like Buendio, line you up against a wall and despatch you. Well, actually, not. But you must appreciate, anyways.

I must also think up ways to comfort Patsy. Except: I was told to meet Someone on Wall Street, with tape--I stood around for a while, but no one came. I don't commit arson by myself--I need an accomplice. Who's the stood-up prom date now? ^_^

'isha calls.
I go.