When she teaches, she pounds the table, like a drum. Like the sound of the drums they beat at executions. I can hear them in my sleep.
It may have been awhile since I last wrote in my journal. Somehow it doesn’t seem as important anymore. I am focusing single-mindedly on my lessons, and things seem much simpler. My routine has changed. I am having morning meal with Anchoress Samarra each day. We visit and drink tea, and have something to eat, and then I go off to, what for me, is school. I practice my language and my positions and I find great joy in them. I have read back in my journal and I have to laugh at some of the things I have said about being afraid of my father and afraid of my fate. How silly of me.