- ja?
: farooq hat ein' hochzeit!!
which made me laugh a lot, because i have no idea how he got that. comes up with the most amazing things - now he is telling stories about sawwa and going through a list of people he knows, asking if they too have a hochzeit ("hat haleema ein hochzeit?").
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i promised narrative. a catalogue.
missed opening ceremonies (snow in winnipeg); syrian taxi driver bleary to our shared hotel room; taqaji and i to parliament hill early after fajr the next morning, icy wind tunnels and riverscape; visitation with the cuban embassy; a long walk back to the hotel along the canal; a first day of sessions filled with stumbling and bumbling sentances left to hang in midair. evening, discussion among team cuba on aristotle and carmichael; a morning where taka and i lay half-asleep and spoke against white infidels. the next sessions beautiful: i told stories, constructed metaphors, composed and recited poetry, ranted against capitalism, denounced oppression and suppression, proclaimed the inevitable rising of the world proletariat, and said very random things for the sake of saying them. drafted a resolution for which only cuba voted. the betterment i could've done: slamming shoe on table WE WILL BURY YOU a la khrushchev. we discussed doing this, among our delegation, but the time was not ripe. italian restaurant, an evening spent annoying taka with aisha, talking, tea, drifting to sleep; crepes and waffles breakfast the next morning, with massey takaji aisha abdullah t & s; too many hours of committee sessions before closure. i claimed that night for my own, to wander and walk around, shadows of streets; ran into taqa after writing in second cup, searched half-heartedly for a movie before giving up and sleep. the next morning lethargic, slow, before to gatineau to meet the manicoms after eight years: a startling, immediate familiarity, no real strangers. pictures which follow courtesy of r and m.
today, quiet of the hurricane eye. work on drama project, next week is the storm.
