Marrakech leather chair or this little one because

or this little one because it’s so small on the page

now splashing onto your white shirt and your cheeks as you pat your face with the serviette

it became completely fucked

years have slipped by and our progress alike

Marrakech leather chair or this little one becauseI hang my pride on my sense of direction and ability to handle extremes. I felt alive in the maze like corridors of the Medina, 111F 44C beating down as I pretend to know which way is up. The heat is brilliant, it's thick through your throat, heavy settling with dust on your brow and slowing of pace in a setting that has already been stilled by time. A place delayed by centuries to give a moment of reflection into what felt like biblical times. With