It's funny when you sit in front of a computer with three other students, watching a documentary.
Only to realize you're the only one interested.
You're the only one whose eyes aren't wandering. The only one who's not playing a game of tic-tac-toe or texting your best friend that you'll be "out of here soon."
You're not moaning.
You're not rolling your eyes.
You're not bored at all.
It's a long documentary for someone who has funner things to do, but it's almost entrancing.
The love that the translators had for Rumi's work is a beauty in itself. I've yet to begin reading, I've yet to begin reading the text, but I'm so excited.
I'm excited to begin the journey that is the power of love.
No longer will I be reading of the power of religion or God.
Instead, I will be reading the love for love itself.
There was a poem, though, that we read in World Poetry
And it explained the love for God.
As much as I appreciated it, it made me wish I loved God just the same, so that I could fully appreciate it.
I'll try to find that later.
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