and then our exile

The sun is not due yet for another half hour, and the sky is an interfusion of various hues: the thousand persuasions of blue, purple, gold.

Work is progressing. Slowly, but still. Thing is, as I move through the doings, more tasks get appendaged to the bottom of the list.

It has of late become my task to attend to the chickens at night, bringing in water and eggs (that they not freeze) to the boot-rack just inside the door. Yesterday Usman visited there and layed out all the eggs in a perfect row on the floor (unbroken, mind) and then reached into the egg-pail and started spreading the hay inside on top of the eggs. It was very funny, and alarming as well.
Watched the stars for a bit last night before going to my desk and editing all the stuff I've written over the past month or so, reading it over, holding the words in my mouth and making sure they all tasted like whipped cream, altering where necessary. This is the sort of stuff I wish to do for the rest of my life.
Also read what I'd written during Ramadan. "I'tikaaf: Defying The Laws Of Physics"

For some reason, the HSMUN people are not replying to emails. Everyone in my group thinks we're registered (um.), and we really are, unofficially.

Also, i am now in stamps, and so all the letters (4? 5?) i have meant to write for a long time are as good as done. One thing I wish I had more time for is reading. And the only time I get to get outside is when we go to get the mail, to attend to the chickens, or if i *do* go adventuring around on skiis late at night.

(collateral to the below thoughts on the need for various things: also a need: development of Islamic theory of literature and the Arts in general, in a modern context. I read one article on the theory of aesthetics in Islamic Studies, and am very interested in more, but don't know how widespread the ideas are.)