selenophile
“What I do in literature is come and go from reality to fantasy, from fantasy to reality, the way life itself is.”
W is for Wonder
I went for a run late last night. I pursued the stretch of the boardwalk that extends from Tagazhout to Tamraght. Both are Berber fishing villages, and the fisherman spotted the beach with their headlamps flashing at the tide—their long poles with little lights on the very tip. I liked watching the waves best at night, the bobbing lights as the fisherman shifted their weight from foot to foot. It is a lonely feeling. Not quite quiet, the sound of water pounding the sand. The lack of horses galloping and camels defecating makes the scene much more serene.
It’s hazardous to walk the beach in the dark because of camel poop. If I stepped in the scat, I’d toss my leather loafers. The smell is porous, and I taste it in my hair if I get too close to the source when I go for my midday swim. I shower not to rinse the salt, for I love the taste of the sea, but to scrub the scent of defecation from my body. Waste removal systems take up too much of my attention. On my first swim at the beach, I noticed the large clots of fecal matter and wondered why the animals were not taken elsewhere to do their business, especially with the children playing in the sand. The beach is as much of a racetrack for the horses chaperoning tourists, their lithe bodies rippling with sunlight.
There is no worse scene than that of one riding a horse wrongly.
It’s terrible to witness. The horses attempting to sustain their trot and the riders entirely out of rhythm with their own bodies- never mind the steed!
There's an imperceptible lightness in motion; I perceive it in the horse's gallop. I feel it in myself when I am running. Before the next step, there is a brief moment where I float above the surface of the thing, my breath held at the top or bottom. I hover indiscriminately, much like the fishermen waiting for the fish to tug at the line. Something draws me forward, my footfalls the steady beat of questions I fling to the sky.
I ran past the bougie hotels, the skatepark, several pools, a restaurant with a DJ, and a large group of people wearing only white gathered around a fire, its flames dancing ecstatically. I ran past couples holding hands and children on tricycles. I ran past groups of young men sitting on the curbside. I ran past groups of young women standing under street lamps, flicking their hair back and thrusting non-existent hip bones. I ran past cyclists and other joggers wearing AirPods and Apple watches.
I do not need to tack my steps, for therea is no final countdown to where I am headed. Crystals cut from the sun spotted the darkness. My vision blurred with sweat or tears; I did not know and did not want to ask that question. Tipping my chin towards the heavens, a flock of white birds shifted their pattern to reveal a wide ‘W’ I took for Wonder.
Photo source.
