(not my picture)
on and on
the rain will say
how fragile we are
and the worst is over, they tell me. one more tomorrow, and then - what? cruel disillusion of freedom. "they never told me there'd be days like these." except they did, at that fateful moment in preternity when rash adam (peace be upon him) and i accepted the covenant. or that is one way of seeing it; the other, ringing far more true, allows me far less cover that Tomorrow which is the gathering-in of days. that i am not ready.
thank-yous to those who emailed after reading the last post. if i have not replied it is because
one more tomorrow, after a week of times. last weekend farooq noor and i were driving home from narnia. "what did you think?" "it reminded me of my childhood." sunday, monday, tuesday: an hour or two of sleep each, and then various exams. overall i believe they were alright, but that does not excuse reading assigned chapters for the first time in nights before. next semester will be different, i like to think. in afterbirth release in an armchair by SUB's fireplace, heavy limbs stretched out, watching people around me through a dreamy haze - snatches of conversation, pounding headphones of one who stared unblinking at his laptop, answering the waiting girl behind him in monotone; a fourth-year across the way engrossed in a novel, the white band around his arm a silent mark of superficial solidarity; a girl with long hair holding a biology text on her knees, people-watching.
wednesday evening farooq came to get sociology notes; we spent till 2am eating mozzerella cheese, laughing at randomness, tasting chocolate, discussing freud. he left after breakfast. thursday night again was spent discovering things i should have read weeks ago, but friday i crawled under blankets and did not move for fourteen hours.
the prints dark and fragile in new snow. in a few days to saskatoon, to partake in winter christmas festivities and see some familie for the first time in two years. "you always take the rukhsah, don't you."
standing at afternoon windows, about to call 'asr adhan, a flash of white in the distance: deer bounding back and forth across a snowy meadow where stalks of long grasses poke through an inch of white, behind the row of now-bare maydays, with golden light from the setting sun reaching to the tips of trees. the deer raced back and forth, leaping into the air.
i've decided to do the campus-switch next-next year. granting relief.
next semester, unless i get coopted into ph-r-d's englisch class:
drama149: intro to improvisation
hist110: world history 700-1500
phil102: knowledge and reality
engl112b: historical survey of englisch lit
anthro150: race and racism
