‘What’s to be done now? What should I do with you? What do you think the solution is?’ said the sheikha.
The sheikha seemed very agitated. She kept moving her hands about, making it impossible for me to read what was written on the page.
‘The decision is in God’s hands. My work is whatever God guides you to,’ I said to her, beginning to feel that this might well be the last time I saw her.
My heart weeps and I say: It’s over
In my chest it trembles and I say: Repent!
A week went by during which I didn’t once visit the sheikha. Every morning, Abu Abdullah got up early and went to the mosque to pray the dawn prayer, though he wouldn’t return until after the evening prayer. I asked him over and over again why by the time he came home he was always so exhausted and covered in dirt. Eventu
