Returning to the space I love after a long time, words are getting meshed. There is a lot to say but it is difficult to translate my feeling into words. Words get choked. Though trying to move on . But the emptiness within me has surrounded too much. I am doing things mechanically. It seems , I was just cajoling myself that I am totally prepared for this day. But I am not. Life has become a reflection of an empty space which will be eternally void. During this time I am only trying to keep myself busy. Pretending to be unfeeling. Though I weep internally each second for loss which was already destined.
Moutabbal or Mutabbal is Syrian dip. Mr.K is too fond of it. So I prepare and keep a weekly stock of it along with Hummus for his instant craving. We only have to order Khubz (Lebanese bread)to go along with it , which is just a call away.
