Haven’t had my hands on any keyboard over the weekend, due to the stream of frustrations that have accommodated themselves so very easily. I couldn’t really tell so much, about what is happening, and what is about to happen, or if only what I am to do with any of it.
The point is to fill yourself up with belief, and more belief. We neglect our promises, to fall back, and ask for a remedy or a revival, even when it’s all been clear.
Your emptiness will not cease to exist.
I need to schedule, really well, and to avoid all things mischievous.
In other news, I am more than happy than anyone could ever be, for Fatma’s Milcha, or simply, her illustrious marriage. May it be nothing but fulfilling and wonderful.
Would I get full responses from people in my age, even about things that they know better than anything else?
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