As the dusty, weary, thirsty pilgrims approach the blessed house they fall into orbit around it, eyes full and hearts yearning, hands outstretched towards the magnetic black cube towards which they prostrate back home. This lonely brick structure in the middle of an uninviting desert, unremarkable save for its symbolism, continues to attract longing souls as readily across space as it does across time: men and women who travel far and wide but to circle it a few times and to gaze upon it for a while before returning to where they came from, touched. What a sight, then, must the Lord of this house be? Continue reading Vignettes on Hajj