and then our exile

and so family is off, nearly in London, they must be. and here i nurse my memory.

the past month has been quietly beautiful. the power of speech truly is a great gift. communication. bayan. "wa 'allamahu'l-bayan". (Q. al-Rahman: 4) ideas and people and so many things passing through our glances.

i saw a syria i did not know: there is a land of orange orchards, of moors and snowy mountain peaks, of green and rolling hills and sheer mountain gorges, of a glorious great sky. this is the land i live in, so different from the raw desert around this city.

yesterday i realized that i do not like cities--they are definitively oppressive. it is some days a sin to have eyes--where do you put them? and legs that walk, because where do you go? i felt to escape from the City. not because of damascus, i have felt the same thing (in less extremity) in edmonton as well.

and now i will go home, unpack, reconstruct a lifestyle. it is a life of baubles.

seven and a half more months. inshaAllah. du'a is in order.