With each new month that comes, something wakes up in my heart… something whose nature I don’t fully understand, whose true nature I don’t know. It’s like the sweetness of first love… or like the mystery of those anxious days when we don’t know whether we’ve fallen in love or if we’re just deluding ourselves. On the first night of Ramadan, I feel that I can see the souls of others through the soul of others themselves. A longing grows within me… I wish to find that ant that Lady Sulaiman kissed. I hope to touch the whale that swallowed Yoonus, and to pat its head. I dream of finding the donkey that was sent before Uzayr, to carry him on my back. I think aimlessly about the grave of the deer that carried the message to Balqis, and later told Lady Sulaiman about her worship of the sun. In Ramadan, I feel that everything in this world is based on love. It’s the dominant law that rules the world, even if people corrupt it with hatred and destruction.