There’s something about old people I’ve recently grown to love. I find myself gazing non-stop at them in the streets or whenever I go out. I don’t know why exactly. Maybe because I feel I’m getting older? I’m still wondering about that. Maybe I’m trying to picture my life ahead, trying to fill the gaps I’ve encountered in me lately. I honestly don’t know; at least, not yet. I’ve just seen two old men walking in the rain, heading towards the mosque for Fajr Prayer, with nothing on but a Jilbab and Abaya. It’s actually 4:30 in the morning, still dark, and both of them were walking individually. No one told them to come down, no Athan was calling out for prayer yet; they simply got up on their own and chose to bear this windy weather, obviously for just the love of Fajr Prayer. I know you’re asking yourselves; ‘what’s so fascinating about them? This usually happens when they grow up; it’s not a new phenomenon or something.’ Indeed, it isn’t. But doesn’t it make you wonder; what ex...
