and then our exile

Farooq was in school with everyone who is getting shot or stabbed in Edmonton these days. "Makes you wonder about people in general." That = quote from two seconds ago, except from Someone in another context.
Midmorn, an equilibrium turned upside-in and a face-applique. Usman on my shoulders (as i type there is a bluejay on the birch tree in front of the window) and people-talk. Arrive home with a headache (of the city. i am not a cityman.) to news: Martin Lings Abu Bakr Siraj ad-Din phoned Abi. (i say this here as an apologia for Salafyistic vibrations: it is said he receives few visits, and those mostly from those on the tariqa he is of)(i said that because i wanted to use the word tariqa for Ph-R-D to hear)--but seriously. =!!! For those not in the know, Martin Lings is one of the greatest scholars living--wrote a magnificent biography of the Prophet Muhammad (s), as well as numerous other works (The Sacred Art of Shakespeare, Ancient Beliefs and Modern Superstitions, The Eleventh Hour, etc.), and is an individual of great Baseerah.
Watching geese, and driving again, to discover afterward i left my wallet at home. Meh.

Faraz: "i love your hat man. It's all colourful and red and no man i just like it. Can you get me one?" My point in relating this small story is this that the wae to my heart is through my hat. i have many hats, and they are all pretty, but if you compliment them you earn my undying love. Well, something like that.

Recently my hand into my pocket and --wow! Meringue!! Who would have thought? All these strange and beautiful things happening to me.