I don’t know why but there is nostalgia in the air. The kind of evenings where there is some beauty in sadness. The air is quiet as I wait for dawn to make suhoor. The night sky is such a deep black I could stare at it for hours and still feel like my vision approaching something in the distance. It’s one of those silent hours when my mind is taking everything in, sinking in some unknown thought. I brew some hot tea for myself. I sip it, and instantly, I feel I have a cure for this vague madness.
A Good Kind of Madness