A quiet place called New York

February 26, 2015

new york photo

I miss New York. Not for any reason in particular. A strange thing my teacher said. He said that he sometimes watches movies and forgets he’s in Jordan. I thought that was strange but it stayed with me. I don’t know what it is about home. You’ll always miss it even if you left by your own will. even if you love the place. Home is home. There’s a safeness to it. And walking “home” everyday here is not the same as the home I once knew. Though being an adult I suppose you are suppose to find home somewhere else. It’s strange this suspension in time we’re all forced to go through.

It’s exhausting really, to not know were you belong and to know the only place you’ve ever belong you don’t really belong anymore. It doesn’t have to be depressing but anything worth thinking about is usually depressing some way. Sadness is just the emotion I relate to most. And the only one worth thinking about and analyzing. Happiness does need to be analyzed, you just enjoy it. Doing anything else would take away from it. Speaking of happiness, I’m really happy listening to these set of lectures with Shaykh Abdullah Adhami, listen here.

Thank you to all the readers of this blog, I’m sorry for the half way disappearing acts and short posts about little more than my personal life, thanks so much for your continued read.

Take Care,
Nuriddeen

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