I need my glasses to read but not to see. I forgot my glasses in Chicago quite a long time ago and I've been able to manage without them, so far. After about 30 pages worth of essays written, my eyes are crying, pleading for the curvature that my glasses provide. Every book I pick up taunts me, dares me to read it without getting a headache. My body needs rest, but my eyes scream for an oasis of loving sleep, a chance to see blackness nothing.
No matter how much I romanticize, the fact is that I am still about two pages away from finishing my essay on Jahiliyyah, the barbaric time before the arrival of Muhammad. I shall continue.
2 comentarios:
oh no, che! i can't remember where I put your glasses! i know i put them in a safe place but... hmmm i had better start looking for them!
2 Cor. 5:7 (it's a good thing this is true!)
and
Matt. 11:28-30 (i hope you are able to by now!)
peace ;-)
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