"Many times my friends have decided to go back,
but not me,
because I wanted to see the ends of the earth "Alexander the Great
The bus was crowded, the window was the sea to escape the gaze and the Blue Mosque with its domes in the background, sad womb turned to prayer, contained secrets whispered.
The guy with the earring was talking on the phone and smiled at me.
I held the camera resting on his chest.
A group of kids sat by the window, had a radio which broadcast the hypnotic notes of an Arabic song, which was sensual caress of scholarly mute strips, suck, in a crescendo of rhythm and volume, it reminded me of the intercession of Sirtaki, heard years ago on Santorini, with its growing waves and double parallel, as the desire.
nights that did not go to sleep even the moon.
climbed the man who sold the turkish coffee, readme in the future coffee, while I think of a female pope in the deck of tarot cards upside down on a table outside a bar.
The last coffee drunk at the airport, the flavor on the lips like a kiss.
was then that I saw him for a moment his gaze and stared into my deja-vu of days gone by put together the puzzle of memories and blurry shadow on the right shoulder, snagging a photo?
He got off at number 13, but there were too many people and as I did off the shirt caught on in the crowded hall of the doves in the cage of a mime sitting near the exit.
The hot, music, my head was spinning.
got off at the next stop and ran back, dodging the river of people crowding the street, women with chador laughing, men sipping tea, the stalls of street vendors with blood oranges, dates and fleshy, round and shiny.
Thousands of carpets woven to the frame nodes and long and exhausting negotiations with customers, accompanied dall'intercalare the bes.
I had to buy coriander seeds.
few days earlier there had been an attack, right there, behind the market, but now no one seemed to care. Not the girl who was tattooed hands with henna, the bride of May, I thought of those drawings sensual sit on the groom's bare skin. And some moons sitting at the edge of the well in the small courtyards that will open in the heart of the palaces.
Donna, give me a drink Hammam
I saw him before, yet his gaze for a moment.
I've been here
not give you, turn around, soddisfami.
If the wind blows from west listen to the voice of the dead.
Master was there.
"You agreed, therefore," he said.
"Why have you sent up here?"
"Why buy coriander seeds"
walked through the crowd that did not seem to see us, or maybe we were really invisible that night.
Master stood in the square, with a sweeping gesture of his hand said:
"It reminds you who you are and the power that you have"
Then he walked along the colonnade.
I followed him.
"Wait, I do not know what to look for, I do not know which way to go"
"The road has found you, and she will lead your steps, because they'd come this far? You learn the voice of the moon and the weeping of the trees, the cry of the wolf and the secrets of the wind "
He grabbed my shoulders and her eyes of fire came to me, touched my forehead with her fingers, opening the veil was torn abyss and beyond, beyond the present suspended between faces, words, images, as in a carousel.
When I opened my eyes the Master was gone.
In the bag canvas bag with coriander seeds.
The moon peered from the rooftops.
I walked to the east.
without looking back.
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