Chronicles of a Sprained ankle: Counting the Cracks on my ceiling

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It has gotten to the point that I am now inspired by the cracks on my ceiling, creating beautiful paintings and composing a menuet in their honor.

Not quite, but admitedly, my sense of humor has definitely been inspired, getting darker as the nights grow longer.

The best thing this sprained ankle has provided me with is time. I hadn’t realised how tired I was until, not having anywhere to go, I could actually sleep more than 6 hours per night. I hadn’t realised how hectic my schedule was until, not being able to go anywhere and no one willing to come to the boonies to see me, I could actually see the lines on my agenda again (they are silver, not grey).

Interestingly enough, at first it made me even more tired. It felt like I couldn’t get enough sleep, and it felt like I couldn’t clear up my agenda enough. But now the challenge comes into stepping back (pun totally intended) into ‘real’ life not forgetting about the lessons of the last 7 weeks. It’s so easy, in a society centered on the self, to forget about everything but myself, and every step has to be taken to make sure the self doesn’t end up ruling Sahar-nation.

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