In the streets of this rainy capital, I reformulated my life, my hurts and my crises.
It was grey, it was morning in this taxi of my past and my illusions. In Denmark, at dawn, even my memories were gloomy and grey.
I told myself that you had been there a few years back. Time had passed, as had so many doubts, so many tears and so many silences. My traveling companion was surprised to hear me talking to myself. This seemed normal: I was used to talking to myself, all alone. I had such a need to hear myself.
How sad these streets, this grey, this morning and the rainy paths of my life. There had been so many tears. No one to hear, no one to speak to, no one to provide support. I know that the Unique one has kept me and continues to keep me in proximity to these hurts. I asked Him for His love because I had already offered him my trust and my love. With His grace circling around my crises, I understood what was blinding me.
On the heels of this past. My spirit was wounded and my anger was rekindled. One never gives everything of one’s own to whom one loves. This is the secret of life, we are masters of nothing, or of so little. I will not forget, I will never forget. If this pleases the Merciful.
It was a morning in the wet streets of Copenhagen. A sense of life and my memory returned to me. Alone in this morning taxi, I was hurting, I was all of a sudden frightened and I was consoled by my tears. A page of my life had definitely turned. It is clear. Time has passed.
If one day, these words come to those who will have buried me, I would like them to stop, to be concerned, to pray and repeat the song of hope and eternity. Life will have gone by and the falling tears will testify to the fact that I had indeed existed.
If you cry, be joyful. On the streets of Copenhagen, one morning, I learnt that time would pass, that tears could pour and that we have to smile to find down here the path and freedom. Smile, smile I ask you and listen: We come from God and it is to him that we will return.
It was late in the night in Preston. Thinking of him on this mild and starry night, as an Aurora borealis snakes across jet-black sky, reflecting the agony and ecstasy of this ishq, amore, and Love. Shakkira xx
Dear prof. Tariq, receive my best greetings from Qahira .. it is hot, but beautiful, isn’t it? Talaat Harb Street is very noisy an ever more – busy.
I can remember in an interview on the Dutch television you spoke about ‘smiling at what is difficult’. Sometimes it’s the only way, isn’t it? And rely on God…