Wanderlust in Tangier, Morocco…
I have no idea of what is going to happen
or in which parts the pain will be.
We are only in spring, and spring has a twisting light.
Spring’s images are made of crystal and cannot be recalled.
There will be suffering, but you know how to coax it.
There will be memories, but they can be deflected.
There will be your heart still moving
in the wind that has not stopped flying westward,
and you will give a signal. Will someone see it?
Paul Bowles, Next to Nothing