7 Ramadhan, 1447
I'd half-forgotten, but now vividly, vitally remember, how often the demands of Fasting Month confront me with my numerous inadequacies. The funny thing is that this process sort of makes me feel good - sort of relieved to deal with simple realities and then just get on with the important thing. The fast and its demands.
And whilst I'm on the subject of my less-than-impressive characteristics, it occurs to me that I've never genuinely managed to identify in any real sense with the more 'heroic' figures in literature. The three that spring to mind I'm painfully aware reflect significant bits of me are King Lear, Estragon (from Godot) and Mr Leopold Bloom. Not exactly an impressive triumvirate, eh?
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