{"id":116,"date":"2025-11-25T12:04:59","date_gmt":"2025-11-25T12:04:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/beirutbook.shop\/?post_type=product&p=116"},"modified":"2025-12-11T12:23:02","modified_gmt":"2025-12-11T12:23:02","slug":"magdalene","status":"publish","type":"product","link":"https:\/\/beirutbook.shop\/en\/product\/magdalene\/","title":{"rendered":"Magdalene"},"content":{"rendered":"

They say spring is the season of love, a time when emotions blaze, souls find comfort in one another, hearts draw closer, and gardens fill with birds singing on blooming branches and people strolling among the trees. But I do not believe any of this. For me, the most beautiful hours are those in which I am alone with myself, confiding in it my worries and sorrows, shedding tears that cool the burning ache rising in my chest.<\/span>
\n<\/span> The strangest thing I find about myself is that I cry over nothing, grieve for no reason, and feel within me a burden of worries and sorrows whose source I do not know. At times I imagine that a touch of madness has crept into my mind, increasing my fear and anxiety.<\/span>
\n<\/span> Those who know the causes of their pain and sorrow are not truly miserable, for they live with hope and survive by expectation. But I am unhappy because I know of no cure to apply nor a day of recovery to look forward to.<\/span>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Author:<\/b> Mustafa Lutfi al-Manfaluti<\/span><\/p>\n

They say spring is the season of love, a time when emotions blaze, souls find comfort in one another, hearts draw closer, and gardens fill with birds singing on blooming branches and people strolling among the trees. But I do not believe any of this. For me, the most beautiful hours are those in which I am alone with myself, confiding in it my worries and sorrows, shedding tears that cool the burning ache rising in my chest.<\/span>
\n<\/span> The strangest thing I find about myself is that I cry over nothing, grieve for no reason, and feel within me a burden of worries and sorrows whose source I do not know. At times I imagine that a touch of madness has crept into my mind, increasing my fear and anxiety.<\/span>
\n<\/span> Those who know the causes of their pain and sorrow are not truly miserable, for they live with hope and survive by expectation. But I am unhappy because I know of no cure to apply nor a day of recovery to look forward to.<\/span>
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