All I knew was I stood there, moonlit backdrop hiding the truth that yes—I did indeed think of burying myself deep inside; I did indeed think of hiding underneath the flaps of your skin, of picking your ribs apart and crawling to the space next to where your heart beats.

...[I]n the Arabic language there are multiple ways to express the word love. These alternative forms of the word “love” emerged from the plethora of romantic Arabic poetry over time.

I remember it clearly like it just happened; we didn’t have any of the garb the popular Western depictions of Mary had, so with cloth scraps my mother collected—or found lying around in our house, I’m not too sure on that detail anymore...