+ only an uneducated idiot would think like this

We are a humble letter, a single syllable, one word out of a gigantic Odyssey. We are immersed in an enormous song and we shine like humble pebbles as long as they remain immersed in the sea.

What is our duty? To raise our heads from the text a moment, as long as our lungs can bear it, and to breathe in the transoceanic song.

To bring together all our adventures, to give meaning to our voyage, to battle undauntedly with men, with gods, with animals, and then slowly, patiently, to erect in our brains, marrow of our marrow, our Ithaca.

Out of an ocean of nothingness, with fearful struggle, the work of man rises slowly like a small island.
Within this arena, which grows more stable night after day, generations work and love and hope and vanish. New generations tread on the corpses of their fathers, continue the work above the abyss and struggle to tame the dread mystery. How? By cultivating a single field, by kissing a woman, by studying a stone, an animal, an idea.

Earthquakes come, the island sways, a corner crumbles away, another rises out of the sunless waves.
The mind is a seafaring laborer whose work is to build a seawall in chaos.

Location

Murphy's sign

Time course of the pain

Unexplained hypotension

وَمُدمِنُ الخَمرِ يَصحو بَعدَ سَكرَتِهِ
وَصاحِبُ الحُبِّ يَلقى الدَهرَ سَكرانا

وَقَد سَكِرتُ بِلا خَمرٍ يُخامِرُني
لَمّا ذَكَرتُ وَما أَنساهُ إِنسانا

- عُليَّة بنت المهدي

عليّة بنت المهدي جانت أميرة عباسية، وأُخت هارون الرشيد غير الشقيقة

لَم يُنسِنيكِ سُرورٌ لا وَلا حَزَنُ
وَكَيفَ لا كَيفَ يُنسى وَجهُكِ الحَسَنُ

وَلا خَلا مِنكِ لا قَلبي وَلَا جَسَدي
كُلّي بِكُلِّكِ مَشغولٌ وَمُرتَهَنُ

- عُليَّة بنت المهدي