Ramadan is merely days away. The holiest of months, the fulcrum around which the Muslim calendar revolves. But despite all the anticipation, as much as it is a time to reconnect with one’s faith and community, I still find myself – however much I refuse to admit it – quietly wary and apprehensive as the month approaches. As I wander my local supermarket aisles, checking the labels of medjool dates and stocking up on apricot juice, I wonder how I will last the long stifling European days, whether I will manage to wake up and eat enough at suhoor, and most of all, I wallow in nostalgia for the R…