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The thoughts i think, but usually not for long. Jasmine hangs heavy in the air,. The flowers bruised, bleeding fragrance. Night-flying moths whirl, cascade,. Drunk with the promise of love. Shadow-hidden, veiled women pass. The hot sky is star-scattered. Water-carriers lay the dust,. Drops flying from sweeping hands. The men lie outside on cushions. Hookah smoke curling in lazy wreaths,. Oum Kalthoum sings of heartache and loss. Longing etched in every word.
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Viernes, 22 de febrero de 2008.
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