Latest news with #Arabic
Mint
2 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Mint
Banu Mushtaq's recipe for Gobi Manchurian
One of the strange things about getting an English education is that you are afflicted with a French education too. And a little bit of Russian too. What I mean is that if you have to study the English classics you are supposed to be thrilled by everything that the English thought was thrilling. Even if you have never sneezed in the direction of Marcel Proust, you will probably know that someone in a Proust book ate a tiny cake called a madeleine and then had an intense, emotional flashback. Sensory memory, particularly food-triggered memories, are real, of course. Contemporary cuisine loves to build on gastronomic nostalgia. Chefs know that it is like letting you bring an old friend to a party full of new people. Indians love all the heavy emotional artillery associated with food. Our books are full of deliciousness but off the top of my head though, it is hard for me to remember one right this moment. (This is cue for you to please email my editor about all the superb books I have forgotten about or foolishly haven't read yet.) This brings me to the important matter of Banu Mushtaq and the Gobi Manchurian. Also read: When we mock the working class, the joke is on us Banu Mushtaq, as you know, is the 77-year-old writer from Karnataka whose book Heart Lamp (translated from Kannada into English by Deepa Bhashti) has just won the International Booker Prize. When you get the book, I recommend you turn to The Arabic Teacher and Gobi Manchuri right away. If it was possible to take every last entitled male behaviour that drives women mad and turn it into a crispy pakora, that is what Mushtaq has done in this short story. Many spoilers ahead but really my plot recap shouldn't ruin your enjoyment of this story. The central character is not a floret of cauliflower. It is a lawyer looking back to when her daughters were young and she needed to hire an Arabic teacher. She is a busy, smart woman who knows her in-laws would enjoy watching her fail at her professional life and/or her domestic life. She is told that her husband cannot be involved in finding a teacher. Her younger brother performs a reluctant, shoddy and snark-filled assist and finds her a teacher. Our heroine is not given a proper chance to vet the Arabic teacher, keen as she is to make sure he is safe to leave with her tween daughters. Her husband won't even promise to keep an eye on the teacher. As it turns out, the teacher is great at his job. Six months in, the lawyer is startled when she finds the teacher and her flour-smeared daughters ensconced in the kitchen with the cook. The teacher doesn't wait to be fired and flees. Our enraged heroine finds out the teacher is apparently addicted to street-side Gobi Manchurian (or Gobi Manjoori as it is known in my fair land) and he had persuaded the clueless cook to try to make it for him. Also read: It's never too late to learn lessons from exams Later, even though the teacher is well out of her children's lives, the lawyer keeps hearing of him and his matrimonial plans. He loses one prospect because the father of the bride doesn't want someone who could abandon his daughter and run back home north of the Vindhyas. He loses another because he accosts the prospective bride and asks her if she knows how to make Gobi Manjoori. Here Mushtaq and her translator Deepa Bhashti have so much fun because each time someone mentions the 'strange" new dish, it gets another name. Gube manchari, gube curry, gube manchali. Gube, the Kannada word for owl, lets us know that everyone is worried that the suitable boy is off his head. The English might attribute wisdom to owls and the French general awesomeness, but Kannadigas know better. The parents of the young women ask each other what kind of nut wants fried cauliflower at his wedding? (Don't raise your hands. I know! Me too!) The moment that really had me cracking up was when the lawyer speculates that instead of this strange vegetarian dish, if the teacher had only 'demanded biriyani, kurma sukha, pulao or other similar dishes, the girl's family would have accepted happily." I had a non-Proustian flashback to an incident in my former Bengaluru neighbourhood, back in 2014. The groom's side pitched a fit that chicken biriyani had been served at the reception when really only mutton biriyani would do. Wedding cancelled. Back then, the bride had told the press, 'My family also had doubts about his moral character and that set me thinking. Finally, the biryani episode settled it and I knew I would not have been happy in the relationship." Unfortunately, in this story, the teacher does slip under the radar of watchful parents and canny brides and finds someone to torture. A battered young woman and her brother arrive at the lawyer's office to ask for help to file a complaint with the police. The woman's husband had been asking her to make an unfamiliar dish and beating her for not being able to. The lawyer knows immediately, of course. The dish is familiar and so is the nut. She knows the teacher ought to be punished for his violence. And at this denouement is where the genius of Mushtaq's story lies. Also read: Sometimes it's nice not to know things My friends at the feminist digital platform The Third Eye have compiled an incredible 'Dictionary of Violence"—concepts that help us understand how gender-based violence is navigated on the ground, in families and the legal system. Twelve women from Lalitpur, Lucknow and Banda, caseworkers all, unpacked the words in this dictionary. And at the heart of that dictionary, the heart lamp if you will, is the Hindi word samjhauta—the deal that is struck in the aftermath of domestic violence. The whole world is recruited into the samjhauta that is bargain, compromise, agreement, persuasion and every other word that seeks translation of men's violence into something that women can live with. At the end of Banu Mushtaq's story about cauliflowers and men, our lawyer makes lightning-quick calculations in her office to save the young woman's future. If she filed a police complaint, the teacher would run away like he had run from the kitchen. The young woman would be neither with husband nor without. Rather than file a police complaint, better to mollify the madman—a decision made all over the world every moment at every level, in war and in peace. And hence, as we leave the lawyer, we see her swiftly searching her phone for a samjhauta—a good recipe for Gobi Manjoori. Nisha Susan is the author of The Women Who Forgot to Invent Facebook and Other Stories. Also read: The benefits of reading poetry in a world of muddled meanings
Dubai Eye
3 hours ago
- Dubai Eye
Dubai Police dismantles begging ring, arrests 41 people
Dubai Police on Friday announced it arrested 41 people for begging and seized AED 60,000 from their possession. Under an operation named 'Misbah' - meaning 'prayer bead' in Arabic - the authority found all the detainees living in the same hotel, which they allegedly used as a base for organised begging activities. Dubai Police began surveilling the location after receiving a tip and detained three individuals selling prayer beads and accessories, who confessed to being part of a wider operation during questioning. In coordination with hotel management, 28 suspects were arrested. The following day, 10 more were apprehended as they attempted to leave the hotel. All reportedly admitted to operating as an organised group for begging and were referred to the relevant authorities for legal action. Dubai Police urged the public to report any begging activity and warned that beggars often exploit religious occasions and holidays to provoke sympathy through professional and deceitful means - an act considered a criminal offence under UAE law. #News | Operation 'Al-Misbah': Dubai Police Arrest Organised Begging Ring of 41 Suspects Residing in Hotel Details: #SayNoToBegging #PoliceEye #CommunitySafety — Dubai Policeشرطة دبي (@DubaiPoliceHQ) May 30, 2025
Observer
5 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Observer
Making leftovers feel like a feast
When Salam Dakkak was growing up in Jordan, dinner didn't end when the plates were cleared. It simply transformed. Her mother would take whatever remained — a spinach stew, a lentil soup, even sautéed vegetables — and tear up old bread, reheat the dish, pour it on top and finish it all with a cool yoghurt sauce and some fried nuts. 'It wasn't just leftovers,' Dakkak said. 'It was a brand-new meal.' That meal had a name: fatteh. Long before appearing on restaurant menus or Instagram feeds, fatteh, from the Arabic verb fatta (to break or tear), was a tradition across Arab households, a generous layered dish that breathes new life into food. Today, Dakkak, 62, the chef-owner of Bait Maryam in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, serves fatteh at her Levantine restaurant in the classic chickpea-and-yoghurt style and in countless other interpretations — some she even helped pioneer. Msakhan, the Palestinian dish of roast chicken with sumac and onions, was, according to her, first served as fatteh in her restaurant. 'The point is to not waste food,' Dakkak said. 'Whatever you have leftover, you repurpose, you make beautiful, you add some new elements and then — Ya Allah — just try how delicious it becomes.' 'People are turning everything into fatteh,' said Sawsan Daana, a Kuwait-based Palestinian chef and founder of Matbakhi. Eggplant fatteh. Food styled by Samantha Seneviratne. — The New York Times Online, you'll find rich, refined, even theatrical versions of the dish. But at its heart is always an unchanged structure: crispy bread, topped with something warm (legumes, vegetables or meats and in more traditional iterations, rice), something cooling (a yoghurt or chili-lemon sauce) and a crunchy element (fried nuts, pomegranate seeds or more toasted bread). Once you have these few elements, you can assemble a different version every night or pull it together in minutes when company comes over. But, despite all that, fatteh hasn't quite caught on with home cooks in the United States. 'A lot of foods like fatteh, mulukhiyah, bamieh — any of these foods we grew up eating at home — they are a lot less popular in restaurants,' said Ahmad Alzahabi, 28, a Michigan-based Syrian content creator, who added that restaurants help introduce Americans to foods they'd eventually want to make in their own kitchens. For restaurants, it can be a matter of execution. 'It's a dish that needs to be prepared and eaten right away — the hot and cold, the soft and crunch, those elements have to come together just right,' said Philippe Massoud, the chef-owner of Ilili in New York and Washington, DC, who has occasionally served fatteh over the years. 'So you have to prepare and serve it last and eat it first.' This has made fatteh impractical for him to keep on regular rotation. But that hasn't deterred others. Salam Dakkak, the chef-owner of Bait Maryam, at the restaurant in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. — The New York Times At Oleana Restaurant and Moona in Cambridge, Massachusetts, fatteh is always on the menu and one of their top sellers. 'I fear our customers will launch a revolution if we remove it,' said Mohamad El Zein, the owner of Moona, laughing. Still, where fatteh always shines is at home. It's an economical, adaptable and endlessly forgiving blueprint, filling without being fussy and impressive without trying too hard, the kind of meal that makes use of what's on hand but still feels like a feast. Or, as Dakkak said: 'Fatteh is not just one dish, it's a format. It can be anything.' — The New York Times
Memri
10 hours ago
- Politics
- Memri
Designated Terrorist Khaled Barakat Of PFLP, Samidoun, And Masar Badil Lauds 'Heroic' Pro-Palestinian Shooter Who Targeted Washington DC Event For Jewish Professionals, Killing Two Israeli Embassy Emp
On May 29, 2025, Designated Terrorist and Canadian citizen Khaled Barakat published an article on the website of his organization, Masar Badil, lauding Elias Rodriguez, the pro-Palestinian activist who targeted a Washington DC event for young Jewish professionals in a shooting attack outside the Capital Jewish Museum which killed a young couple who were employees of the Israeli Embassy. In the article, which was also published in Arabic in the Lebanese Al-Akhbar newspaper, Barakat praised Rodriguez for his "heroic operation", emphasizing that "today's battle is not confined to Gaza or the West Bank, but includes the diaspora as well", and calling for "the forces of the resistance and their allies" to "build on this moment", adding: "the battle is long and open to all possibilities, but clarity of vision and direction—as Rodriguez demonstrated—is the first condition for victory." Khaled Barakat (see MEMRI TV Clip No. 11905 Canadian-Palestinian PFLP Senior Official Khaled Barakat: The Problem Is Not Israel, It Is America; Israel Is Merely Guarding American Interests In The Region; 'America Is The Plague', March 19, 2025) Khaled Barakat is the founder of both Samidoun and Masar Badil, the Palestinian Alternative Revolutionary Path Movement, and a member of the latter's executive committee. He has been identified by the U.S. government as a senior member of the PFLP. He is also designated terrorist by the U.S. and Canada.[1] A Canadian citizen, Barakat has been residing in Beirut for several months after being designated in Canada in October 2024. Khaled Barakat's article on the Masar Badil website ( Barakat previously expressed support for the shooting attack on his social media accounts, as did his wife and international coordinator of Samidoun, Charlotte Kates. The following is the text of Barakat's article praising the Washinton D.C. attacker and inciting further attacks. "The Operation Carried Out By The Feda'i [Fighter] Elias Rodriguez Was Not A Passing Event... [It] Was A Natural And Legitimate Response" "The operation carried out by the feda'i Elias Rodriguez was not a passing event or an act isolated from the current political and strategic context. Rather, it marked a pivotal moment in clarifying positions and exposing contradictions—especially in the international arenas where solidarity movements with the Palestinian people are active. Occurring amid one of the fiercest phases of the genocidal war waged by the Zionist entity against the Gaza Strip for more than twenty months, the operation was a natural and legitimate response to this brutal aggression and an echo of the voice of resistance that remains alive and deeply rooted in the conscience of free peoples. The revolutionary intellectual and martyr Ghassan Kanafani (1936–1972) was the foremost theorist of revolutionary violence in confronting imperialism and Zionism. Kanafani's link to armed struggle was not romantic but was tightly bound to his political thought, his convictions, and the approach whose logical and moral coherence he defended until the moment of his martyrdom. This practical, organic connection was among the chief reasons for his assassination. Kanafani also waged an unrelenting intellectual struggle against those—whether Palestinians, Arabs, or others—who opposed "external operations." The author of the dictum "behind the enemy everywhere" continually affirmed, up to the moment of his assassination, that there is neither separation nor contradiction between the actions of the fedayeen in Palestine and across its borders and "external operations," so long as the political strategy is unified and the enemy is one. Has the enemy camp changed today? Have its colonial policies changed, or have they grown even more savage? Rodriguez's "Heroic Operation" Revealed "Who Truly Stands With The Resistance And Who Hides Behind General Slogans" Rodriguez's heroic operation clarified that the "solidarity movement" with the Palestinian people is not a single current or unified vision, but rather a mixture of diverse forces: some believe in the path of resistance and the liberation of Palestine from the river to the sea, while others have positioned themselves within liberal frameworks that confine the conflict to human rights discourse and the diplomatic arena, and practically call for what is termed the "two-state solution" as the only viable horizon for the Arab-Zionist conflict. This divergence is not new. It reflects the political and ideological contradictions that have always accompanied international solidarity movements, from the Algerian revolution to the support movements for the struggles in Vietnam, South Africa, Ireland, and others. In fact, it also reveals internal Palestinian contradictions—but that is a longer discussion… At the heart of this complex picture lies the importance of Rodriguez's operation. It was not only a security challenge to the U.S. security apparatus but also held up a mirror reflecting the reality of positions: who truly stands with the resistance, and who hides behind general slogans to promote a vision oscillating between nihilism and surrender. Many speak of "the Palestinian people's right to resist," yet they reject any actual, conscious practice of this right if it steps outside the bounds of discourse acceptable in the West, a discourse that often translates into calls for compromises and political concessions, foremost among them the promotion of the "two-state solution" and a "peace" that entails recognition of the Zionist entity's legitimacy and the surrender of Palestine—and of our minds as well. "There Are Those Who [Stand] Firmly And Clearly With The Resistance, Not Only As A Theoretical Concept, But As Practical Action" Conversely, there are those who stood firmly and clearly with the resistance, not only as a theoretical concept, but as practical action grounded in the principles of liberation, return, and the rejection of the occupation's legitimacy. These are the natural extension of Palestinian liberation movements around the world, who view the Palestinian struggle as part of a global front against colonialism, racism, and predatory and brutal capitalism. For this reason, we are witnessing the advance of radical labor, youth, student, and women's forces, while the trend of "conditional solidarity" is in retreat. Rodriguez's operation not only revealed the limits of liberal discourse; it also restored the value of direct action as a mobilizing and agitational tool, placing everyone before their responsibilities. The broad popular response to this operation, particularly among youth and within Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim communities, reveals that popular sentiment remains aligned with armed struggle and a revolutionary position on Palestine. The battle being waged by the Palestinian people is not confined to the West Bank and Gaza, but extends and expands globally within the framework of revolutionary struggle against imperialism, Zionism, and reactionary and fascist regimes. These differences, despite their sharpness, must not turn into a source of nihilistic discord; rather, they should be understood as part of the natural plurality within global liberation movements. Historically, solidarity movements with just causes have witnessed similar divergences, whether in supporting the Cuban revolution, the struggles of Latin America, or even positions on the resistance in Iraq and Lebanon. However, there is an urgent need to prevent the enemy from exploiting this "plurality," especially amid the genocide. The Zionists, through propaganda campaigns and political and legal pressures, seek to demonize all who support the resistance and its supporters, and to sow doubt and distrust within the ranks of solidarity activists in general. Our assessment is that the majority of the Palestinian people—inside the homeland and in the diaspora—especially in light of the massacres in Gaza, see the revival of feda'i action as a revolutionary necessity. They are calling for broader popular participation in supporting the resistance, whether political, financial, media, or cultural support, or through direct involvement. This is the popular cradle and the revolutionary driving force needed to halt the aggression, shift the balance of power, and achieve liberation. The greater the occupation's crimes, the deeper the conviction that there is no place for neutrality and that confronting the enemy has become a duty, not a choice. "Today's Battle Is Not Confined To Gaza Or The West Bank, But Includes The Diaspora As Well... The Forces Of The Resistance And Their Allies Must Build On This Moment" Today's battle is not confined to Gaza or the West Bank, but includes the diaspora as well. Therefore, Rodriguez's operation represents a cry in the face of the American system, and a message that resistance is not the preserve of geography, race, or color, but is an affiliation, an identity, and an ethical and political stance that allows for no compromise. In conclusion, the forces of resistance and their allies must build on this moment, broaden the circles of revolutionary dialogue with liberation movements on an international level, and safeguard their ranks against the Zionist campaigns that seek to isolate and defame the resisters. The battle is long and open to all possibilities, but clarity of vision and direction—as Rodriguez demonstrated—is the first condition for victory.
Sydney Morning Herald
10 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘Excuse me. I've killed my wife': The ongoing menace of forced marriage in Australia
It's hard at first to make sense of the video. Filmed on a phone, it opens on a car clock: 12.56pm. In Arabic, the man filming says this video is evidence, though ultimately he doesn't need evidence because 'it's my life and I have my authority, whatever I do'. By now, he says, his wife should be awake and preparing food. Still filming, he gets out of the car and goes inside his Perth unit. He captures some dirty pots on the stove. 'No food, either,' he complains. Then he films his wife, lying on the bed, asleep. The man taking this video, on January 17, 2020, is Mohammad Ali Halimi, then 25. Halimi, an Afghani refugee, is working as an Uber driver and Halal-method chicken slaughterer. His sleeping wife is another Afghani refugee, Ruqia Haidari, 21, who had lived for six years in the Victorian regional hub of Shepparton, two hours north of Melbourne. Eight months before this video was taken, Haidari was excited about finishing year 12 and had plans to go to university. She dreamt of being a flight attendant. She told a friend that she didn't want to get married until she was 27 or 28 and only then to someone she 'really loved'. But her mother had other plans. 'Excuse me,' he said, after waiting patiently for the front desk officer. 'I've killed my wife.' Her mother, Sakina Muhammad Jan, pressured Haidari to marry Halimi against her will. When the couple flew to Perth to begin their married lives on November 20, 2019, Haidari found herself isolated and living with a virtual stranger with whom she did not want to be intimate. Halimi, meanwhile, was devastated that his wife was not behaving as he expected, and so he made the 'evidence' video as a complaint to Haidari's family. The next day, during a fight, Halimi took a 35-centimetre knife to her throat and sliced it twice, killing her in the kitchen. Her brother, Taqi Haidari, told police that Halimi then called him and said: 'If you are a man, come and get the dead body of your sister.' With blood on his hands and clothes, Halimi then walked into a police station. 'Excuse me,' he said, after waiting patiently for the front desk officer. 'I've killed my wife.' Halimi pleaded guilty to murder and was sentenced in 2021 to life imprisonment with a minimum 19-year parole period. Ruqia Haidari's tragic death put the Australian Federal Police in an interesting position. In August 2019, AFP officers had met with her in Shepparton after her school had notified them that she did not want to get married. They offered to talk to her mother but she refused, saying it would be unhelpful. But after Haidari's murder, the AFP – which had never had a successful prosecution of a forced-marriage case – raided Muhammad Jan's home in October 2020 and later charged her with causing a person to enter a forced marriage (their investigation also discovered Muhammad Jan had received a $14,000 dowry from Halimi). In an upcoming episode of the AFP's podcast Crime Interrupted, which was provided to Good Weekend, investigators explain that they thought a conviction against Muhammad Jan would set a precedent and deter others. It was also, says Detective Inspector Trevor Russell, 'an opportunity for Ruqia's voice to be heard'. But for many working on the forced-marriage problem, this was a low point. University of Wollongong criminologist Laura Vidal, who did her PhD on forced marriage, says the criminal justice system scapegoated one person within a complex dynamic. 'Nothing happened to the matchmaker, or the brothers, or the community or the 500 people who attended the wedding,' says Vidal. Loading Muhammad Jan was, like her daughter, a forced-marriage victim. At age 12 or 13, she married a fellow Afghani she'd never met. She gave birth to her first child in her early teens. She came to Australia as a refugee with four of her children in 2013 after the Taliban killed her husband. She was uneducated, spoke no English and heavily relied on Shepparton's Hazara community which, says Vidal, would have expected her, as a mother, to uphold her family's reputation and find a match for her unmarried daughter. Last year, in the Victorian County Court, Muhammad Jan was found guilty of causing a person to enter a forced marriage and sentenced to three years' jail with a one-year minimum. The court had heard how she developed serious depression after her daughter's murder and often dreamt of her calling out for help. At her sentencing, Muhammad Jan cried and told the judge, via an interpreter, that she'd done nothing wrong. Between 15 and 20 members of the Hazara community attended court that day, many also shouting and getting out of their seats. One collapsed and was taken away in an ambulance. 'It was the most dynamic scene I've ever seen in 11 years,' the AFP's detective senior constable Jacob Purcell told the podcast. The AFP had wanted Haidari's voice heard. But we'll never know what she would have said that day, watching her mother go to prison. For Vidal, the prosecution was proof that the criminalisation approach to force marriage had failed. 'We've got one prosecution in 12 years that was only possible because the victim died. Are we really happy with that?' She has studied various approaches to forced marriage globally and concluded that the best model is not our model – which she calls 'the victim-perpetrator binary' – it's understanding the cultural drivers and gender power dynamics of forced marriage, and working with families to shift behaviours. Danish experts are now setting up a trial of this approach at Life Without Barriers. Nesreen Bottriell, chief executive officer of the Australian Muslim Women's Centre for Human Rights, says the Muhammad Jan case has further damaged the relationship between Muslim communities and authorities. 'The community was shocked by this outcome. It's going to deter victim-survivors from seeking support for fear of their mother or family members being prosecuted.' Bottriell, whose organisation is one of the services victim-survivors can now use as an alternative to the AFP, says she feels authorities overly target the Muslim community on this issue and fail to consider other religions and communities. She says forced marriage is not religiously sanctioned by Islam. 'It's about power and control over women's decision-making.' Ben Moses, the AFP's acting commander for human exploitation, declined to directly respond to Bottriell's criticism. He says the AFP's focus isn't purely on prosecution, but also prevention through community education and giving victims choice. 'As we know, not everyone wants to engage in the criminal justice process and we acknowledge that.' Constable Taylah Potter, a Melbourne-based forced-marriage investigator, says in the past six months she's noticed a positive attitude shift, with more young people feeling empowered to discuss the issue with figures of authority. When I ask how she feels about her job, she says it's easy to get caught up in statistics and court outcomes, but then she'll help a 16-year-old at risk of forced marriage and 'it just completely changes the path of their life.' The joy of freedom Miriam serves me chocolate-covered pretzels, mini samosas and chai. She's wearing black pants, a smart, black short-sleeved top and lipstick. Her neat, one-bedroom rented unit is small, but it's hers. 'I never knew this concept, I don't know how to explain, just having basics, like having utensils, pots. And then when you move to a house, the bin schedule! Oh, my god, I hate that schedule. And cleaning. Proper cleaning, but with love.' Freedom for Miriam and Khadija is about choice. This rug, not that rug. Take this course, not that one. Go outside. Freedom. That's the upside of escaping forced marriage. The downside? It's that gaping hole left where a family once was. Miriam misses her beloved brother. Stealthily, she tracks him on social media. 'I'm trying to see if he would give any indication he wants me back in his life. If that's the case, I would take him in my arms.' Loading For Khadija, it's her sister, still overseas. Khadija is hopeful she'll not join the estimated 22 million people stuck in forced marriages globally. Recently, Khadija's been thinking about a moment before she left. Her father had brought two peaches. 'I think one of his love languages was definitely fruit,' she laughs. Khadija told him the peach was so sweet. The next day he brought a whole tray and said she could have as many as she liked. 'I just can't forget that. I'm like, 'How can you be such a good person and such a shitty person at the same time?' ' Meanwhile, Miriam is studying healthcare. She's got her flat, her licence, a job and a car. One day, she may even marry. 'I thought men were just heartless, cold, like, not giving any rights to women. Now that I'm outside I'm seeing my friends in their relationships, and it's different. It's caring, it's loving.' I ask about her big dreams for the future. She looks momentarily confused. 'This is what I was dreaming about. I'm there, right now.'
