Bones will heal and bruises fade
But time can’t heal the hurt words made.
There are no stitches for stupid bitches,
Lazy brats, you big retard
(no person’s hand could hit as hard)
“Do you still have that ‘fear/depression’ after the shattering? I do.. still. The shattering did make me gain more trust .. But .. the fear of those trials or the depression still remains in a corner. I am still dangling between Hope and Fear (from the trials, Astaghfirullah).” -Tired of Trying
I’m trying to concentrate on prayer, and the following conversation transpires before me:
Musfira: Iman, canna have a cotton candy?
Iman: Musfira, these are cotton balls, not cotton candy.
Musfira; Notta candy?
Iman: No, it’s not candy. Do you know what this is made of?
Forget the naked lollipop schtick and the oversimplification of covered = protected and protected = virtuous.
Hijab is about setting the market value for yourself in an economy driven by sex and how much it’s currently going for.
These days, there are four magic words from Musfira’s mouth that cause me to go into instant state of anxiousness.
“Mama, I hep yoo!”
It is the way of man that if
Sin should maul his hand
He at once withdraws and cradles it
And marvels at the pain…
200 grams of Hersheys unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup (that’s it, one plastic cup)
1 flat, dry work surface. Preferably a coffee table.
20 minutes of suspicious silence…
Musfira comes skipping excitedly into my room:
Musfira: Momma! Iss somefing!
Momma: Yes dear?
Musfira: Somefing inna body went pffft!
(Musfirs grabs her bottom with both hands and grins)
Musfira asks Momma for a cookie.
Momma gives Musfira a cookie.
Musfira receives the cookie and folds it carefully into a tissue and…