It was a voiceless, dark walk back...the deeper you twist and turn into the residential quarters of the medina, the quieter it gets. The evening Adhan can be heard muffled in the distance. The stars overhead are desert stars of the nearby Sahara, vain and bright, having no rivals from light pollution on the ground. They are stars that shine so brightly they pop, like a sky filled with glittering supernovae.
Possibly the most well-educated and historically detailed of all our guides, he was also the most pretentious, eventually claiming, after a point of feeling quite comfortable with us, that he was a direct descendant of Mohammed.
As he guided us around, speaking English, he smoked a cigarette and pointed to various streets and said, “Take a photo!” He did it so often and the streets all started to look alike that I began to pretend I was taking photos just to appease him.
I paid homage today to Anthony Bourdain at the Tingis Cafe in the Petit Socco in Tangier. It's the same place Paul Bowles and Mahbret and other writers sat to drink mint tea and smoke kif.
We circled around a few streets. The cafes and terraces were packed with locals and tourists. But, we could barely keep our eyes open. We hauled our tired bodies back up two flights and crashed.
I wander down a street where a gypsy woman in black sings a cante jondo, tremulous and pulsating, from a terraza draped in laundry three flights up.
I went to Sedona on a vision quest many months ago. I sat in a prayer room filled with the smoke of tobacco, juniper and sweet grass. A man moved the smoke around us with an eagle feather and I saw spring. A savage green spring so far in the future it felt like a date I will never live to see.
We are in the middle of a warm spell. A few days out of place. Winter breaking the rules. The lakes have melted. The snow is gone. I took baby for a walk yesterday and he saw birds, maybe for the first time in his little life. Geese flew in a crooked V above us,... Continue Reading →
I took a stroll down a snow melted path by the Rancocas Creek with my love. We wore invisible red silk threads wrapped around our wrists in honor of our fated devotion as we meandered through a brown, sleeping field. Tiny sparrows crunched under brush on broken sticks. And the whoo of a gentle wind... Continue Reading →
Thursday, Jul 21, 2016, 11:36 PM Calle Mayor, 38, Madrid, Madrid, Spain 84°F Mostly Clear 11:37pm. Madrid time. I'm so grateful to be here, but so tired and already experiencing dizziness, headache, and exhaustion. It's strange being here with just Julien and I. I like it, and I am possibly more relaxed. But enough with... Continue Reading →