hallowed be thy name... the shame... the pain.


We had lunch in the Mosque… it was quiet, romantic, beautiful, peaceful. The scent of the food wafted through as I gazed into you and you told me about your weekend with intensity and laughing… and the very same fucking day there was an Islamist attack in Paris whereby 12 French cartoonists were killed for drawing Mohammed in their magazine. It’s a tragedy I simply cannot reconcile with and one that makes me fear even more deeply for the human race as a whole. We have fallen so deeply into an abyss; an abyss where shooting people is not as bad as drawing the image of a man-made god. Pain magnified. Different levels of pain.
Yesterday there was total silence and today two words. Two words which may as well have been ‘fuck you’. They weren’t quite but they meant as much. And so I sit here, Friday night, alone, sipping a glass of wine and watching a film about an Amateur American poet. My thoughts, of course, turn to you and… one of the last things true… a genuine human being in a world rapidly crumbling.

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