The love you make

All for good reasons,and as unusual of her, Tololy failed to publish as (little?) as a word of late. She has been severely sick for the past number of days, call it purification -as she likes to coin it-, it was a purgatory contrary to Dante’s, in her own bed.

The smell of illness still lingers in her three-holed nostrils, the hair, the clothes, the bed. The feel of weakness was humbling, very humbling. That–that indescribable sentiment of insignificance and defiance at once still visits her now as she recovers. She can at least get out of the bed without feeling cold and dizzy, she can walk steady and say a few words after being silent for this past period -something she is not used to and does not practice willingly.

Much time she found at her disposal to think, of many a thing. I would certainly rate it strange had she not spent her time thinking, she did not sleep at nights and stuck to that damned mattress, silent, under the sheets and the Paris wool hat during the day. What else could she have done, really? Mayhaps the fever had something to do with the hallucinations, the so-called visions, it’s your body heat Tololy. Nothing more, nothing less.

Crippled and static she recalled the beggar she did not provide change for, the innumerable sins, The Beloved… Yes, she remembered The Beloved only when she managed to snooze for a bit. It was something like a sweet summer nap, yet she awoke with the taste of humid salt on her lips, shedding precious tears for the loss of her.
Then she felt she was going to join The Beloved in that other realm, a moment of revelation; both tragic and joyous. Fever was at its best at that hour, deep in the garb of dark, and she literally wanted to have her back, as always, but now more profoundly, more solemnly. Proximity to death is healing.

But she was spared and did not turn into a metaphysical notion, a name recorded by a circle of kinsfolk and friends. She was touched by the warm concern of Niwhsa and Sabri Hakim, and she wishes to thank them from the very bottom of her heart for their thoughtfulness and care.

Illness provides one with an invaluable chance to reflect on matters. It gave her a minute of alleged wisdom, a gift it is being able to value health, and not giving mundane affairs more weight than they deserve. A time to read as well, she managed to conclude three works of literature, and she is not complaining.