There is nothing not worth eating these days. I feel hungry all the time. Went jogging this morning to get away from the fridge and it's calling. It was minus 4 out and I felt out of shape, unhealthy and my heart felt like it was being slammed against a brick wall. Came home defeated, made myself a cup of camomille and cinnamon tea, read the newspaper then set about reading my philosophy books. I have an exam in less than 4 weeks time and I should be panic ridden but I'm not.
I am strangely calm and strangely focussed and weirdly self disiplined. Who is this new me?
Well she's still aching for something sweet...somethings just never change.
Our walks of late are webbed in silence &
The cold keeps our fingers interlaced.
The sharp edges of falling stars sear the backdrop of an ebony canvass,
Revealing ancient wounds from our pasts,
Which bleed upon us during these walks upon silent streets.

The moon swings over us; a pendulum of the time we hold sacred to us;
For is it not with that you measure your certainty by?

There is an apartment overlooking picturesque homes, with windows fringed with flowers
And weeping willows.

Our walks of late are of sightings of possible homes, with warmly lit rooms.

I dream of rooms
With clusters of cushions and the spill of books and glasses of winter wine standing tall on mahogany tabletops.

I dream
Of husbands and wives reliving those first kisses, those first moments just after the little ones are tucked up in bed and they sigh a sigh of relief.

“I thought when I saw you today…God she is beautiful” the tiniest hint of something unfounded grazed your words and I wanted to bandage up my feelings and keep you at an arms distance because my wound was seeping too.
And bloody words are so cruel.

4 hours later my eyes bloodshot
and imaginary movements have flung objects across each room and smashed everything that was home.
Was home to me and a stop off for you.
My hands are bleeding and my revealed veins are pathways to horror, dripping blood across the floor and wounding myself wasn't intentional but now is irrevocable.

I am but a heap of flesh in a corner.
You will find me if you follow me down that thick muddy garden path.
I will be unrecognisable and you will hardly remember that girl…

God she was beautiful.

I talk death and I assume you comprehend,
Such merriment.
I stalk the sun in May
Making the most of the good weather
I dig up mounds of earth in
My designated plot in the garden.
Brush up the remnants of winter
& wash down the chairs and the table
Where we sat last night & when
I interpreted your loyal patience as an opportunity to talk
Death...I got it all wrong.

You in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt
& smiling widely, asking me to smile back
& I couldn’t cause it hurt.

Me in my sphere
You in yours,
Never overstepping that tentative line
Between us
Even in a photograph.
Me in my designated plot
knee deep and our laughter
catching the moment together!
I was far from inconspicuous in those rags and the powder painted face.
Lipstick slipping from my mouth onto the wine bottle I drank from.
The party was full of bad disguises.
& I was by far the worst.

I found a seat on the sofa and clung onto my bottle of wine;
A nervous wreck washed up on the strangest of shores.
I first noticed you when you came out onto the balcony,
Where I stood with my friends;
An entourage of eccentrics blowing rings of smoke out into the sharp
Autumn air.

You were clad in a Victorian shirt and fake blood ran from your mouth.
The girls were craning their heads to the side for the fatal bite.
And you bit into their dainty pallid necks.
Aha! A vampire!
But something gave you away when you stood before me
Preparing to bite me and I had said ever so politely “No Thank you”.
Your beautiful eyes gave it all away…
Perhaps even deceived you.

Later you asked me to dance and I declined.
Again you had asked and I had stumbled fourth
Moved my arms and legs, said that the music was crap
And stumbled back to my seat…
(I had already left you with no prior warning.)
You found someone else to dance with,
A faceless girl in black or red,
I don’t remember.
I recall feeling drunk and being daring enough to kick you.

My eyes followed your every move,
And the rest of the party was only a backdrop
For greater things…
In the bathroom, hallway, someone’s bedroom, perhaps even the kitchen (Did we?) we kissed
…till our mouths swelled with the taste of mango…a glorious fruit.

Even then I knew my hands had found a home
Entwined in your hands.

But here we are 5 years later

And I can still taste the mango of our first kiss.

posted by aminah at 11:13:00 am 0 comments

How you can help What UK charities are doing to help the relief effort in south Asia James Sturcke and agenciesMonday October 10, 2005
A number of charities have already launched their own appeals to help with the earthquake relief efforts in south Asia, with most stressing the need for money rather than gifts.
The British Red Cross has pledged £250,000 and is asking for donations to help support thousands of people whose homes and livelihoods have been devastated by the quake
Oxfam, Islamic Relief, Unicef and London-based relief agency Muslim Aid have also started urgent campaigns for donations.

Islamic Relief has pledged £2m to relief efforts and is hoping to raise further money from collections at British mosques.
Oxfam reported that £50,000 was generated within the first hour of its appeal.
Sir Iqbal Sacranie, secretary-general of the Muslim Council of Britain, estimated more than £3m would be collected from mosques across the country as the shocked community prayed during Ramadan.
A total of more than £2,900,000 has already been pledged from charities since the earthquake struck on Saturday.
These are the details of how to make donations supporting Asian earthquake relief efforts:
British Red Cross: or call 08450 535 353.
Oxfam Asian Earthquake appeal: or call 0870 333 2500 or make a cash donation at your local Oxfam shop.
Islamic Relief UK: or call 0121 622 0622.
Unicef South Asian Earthquake appeal:
Muslim Aid: or call 020 7377 4200.
We are starting our lives anew.
I can see that edge of apprehensions bladed indecision cross between a look, a glance, a retake of, is she the one?
I love him.
I know that now when I see that this is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, for better or worst. What does that mean? Is it my hand in his at a hospital bed? Is it looking after a sore back with warm bottles and paracetamol? I see companionship and a friend I am scared of losing. We share so much but I still have my sanity and that’s the beauty of the love we share.
Today I walked with M through the woods. It was a long walk and I felt the muscles in my legs shake from the strain of the downhill trek. We stopped at a little café. There they sold fresh bread and lovely home-baked cakes. We were ravengeous with hunger and ate cake and slices of fresh bread, washed down with cups of steaming tea. I thought of him as I sat there at the little table sprinkled in crumbs and thought it would have been nice to have done this walk with him. I know he would have enjoyed the sharp air and the beauty of autumn’s colours. The expanses of lake we passed and which I threw stones down into. M had brought her dog and that too had made me laugh. How her legs waggled, that strange doggy walk. It would have made him laugh to.
We are starting our lives anew and I am excited and worried all at the same time.
This is a lifetime decision. Will he be there on my more than likely ugly than uglier days? How will I cope? More importantly how will he cope?
There will be days when we will sulk and there will be days when all we will want to do is hold around each other in the most perfect way.
Lets start afresh.

a drawing
Feed me mouthfuls of love. Nourish me. Cherish me. Bleed for me a tear of crimson blood. Full of vigour and sudden impulse, could you do that for me? Nurture my strange proclivities, whatever the caprice. Revere, adore & treasure me. Devour my words as your own. Drive me but allow me dominion. Tust me. Kiss me. Be mine solely. Speak to me! Think outloud! Learn, teach, express with me. Love me for little me & not a momentary fancy, but a tangible happy everlasting union of 2. Never mislead me with a feigned devotion. Trouble me with the truth. Never spare me. Feed me chaste love, untarnished of uncertainty or dishonesty. And in every way and more I will reciporate.
There is no harm in voicing a doubt. Should be well thought out. Yes now before submitting your heart into the sanctuary of marriage with pragmatic little me.
My memory is a fist tightly clenched around things I would otherwise have forgotten. I've tried to prise open the bloody knuckles. Tried pleading for her to let it go. But her determination is astonishing. Rolling up an arcade of images and scenarios I'd thought deadened by the years, are now searing through my mind, tearing up the one time peaceful ambiance I thought I'd attained, until she turned up...
And I thought this would help. I thought that putting things in perspective was helping...Until she robbed me of the irrevocable. A new day.

Morning mist over the lake. Not long before the sky turned a brilliant blue.

Decidedly out of character, my lone walk in the woods early yesterday morning.
Beautiful is not big enough word to describe the expanse of clear sky and the rich autumal colours I witnessed. There was not a soul around to disturb the ambience, well apart those of a few crows who had settled to watch me take these photographs.

A whole new world has just opened up for me; I can now walk in woods alone and not feel afraid, but only wonderfully alone. The reassurance came in the twitter of birdsong and undisturbed branches.. and a stretch of quiet reflection.

As we walked through fields ravaged and salted by the winter wind and rain, your hand in mine, my hand in yours, it was as if there had never been an argument. It was as if that unsettling feeling of hurt in my gut had never been.

The cold had smartened the pain, but only momentarily. Soon your arm was around my shoulder and we braved the weather together.
Ugly were those words, spun by the agile hands of insecurity.

I was feeling isolated and alone. I didn’t feel as if there was anything completely mine in your country, including you. The walls in the guest bedroom felt as if they were closing in on me. I had read and reread the few English books on the shelves heaving under french novels, dictionaries and ancient magazines. Out of that room and down the wooden steps and into the kitchen, I had prepared a meal or two for us all. Afraid I was stepping on our host’s toes, in his kingdom of copper pots and african utensils, I had rushed about my buisness, eager to be finished.

I’d left a roast in the oven and a cake to cool when you asked me if I’d like to go for a walk. Or did I ask you? Perhaps it was me who had asked and it’s just that my memory wishes to remember things otherwise.

Out there, it was just us and that clean slate of countryside jostled by the mistral. We to seemed to be cleansed by the fresh air. A picture unfolded before us: wiry trees and shrubs, grazing horses and penned in geese. The muddy footpaths led us past houses which we could not see inside for peeling shutters. We wondered who was inside and was that room the living room or the kitchen. You said it could be nice to live here.

I imagine us old and grey, wisened by the years, less regretful and only grateful.

I am full of regrets I tell you. Regretful for what I said. I think you understand. perhaps not. Perhaps your silence spoke a thousand words, perhaps I was just not listening hard enough.

You were talking as we walked. I listened, wanting to understand, showing you I too could be a good listener. I think you had a lot on your heart. I did too, but then when did I not ?

Turning back to our host’s less than humble abode, I almost wanted to pull you back, afraid I’d lose you again for the rest of the vacation.

Something in your eyes told me you were here to stay.

Could we get a dog when we move here ?
Yeah if it can live outside, you had laughed.