Can you remember what happened to you two hours ago? Two minutes ago? If the answer requires some consideration, we must hold each other. You must hold onto me, and I to you. And release. Beloved reader, My sight is failing and failing me - like the foxtrot, a dance that I never learned to master; a dance I appreciate like a foreign fascination: never mine/ never mine/ never mine. I am not afraid. What do they call this? The voice in my head whispers softly: 'imaan.' I'm almost fruitbat-blind, my memory is faltering, but I'm not afraid. What do they call this? The voice in my head whispers softly: 'qalbi xarir.' I cry happy tears as I walk down the street in open defiance of the norms of this strange country; this strange country with its strange customs and its strange people; strange people like me. I cry happy tears and I say, 'Alhamdulillah.' Beloved reader, I cannot give you a reading of what will happen later today or tomorrow. I ain't clairvoyant. But I know how I'll react to small and seismic toils and triumphs. I will continue to till the softest soil of me, and murmur the message in a million different tones. I give thanks/ give thanks/ thanks. With love and solidarity. Diriye
Image by DIRIYE OSMAN and ROBBIE EWING.
Song of the moment: 'Feeling Good' by SY SMITH.