Tag: Morocco
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Conversations with Walid
Note: This short piece sidesteps the chronology of my present journey and profiles a Moroccan man I met two and a half months ago at the start of the trip. We are all broken records to some degree. We hitch our carts to ideas we identify with and repeat them to each other, ad nauseum.…
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A Heavy Ride
*Note: The main character in this story speaks limited English, and I speak nearly no Arabic. As such, I’ve adjusted the dialogue to refrain from using fragmented language or tawdry colloquialisms. I’m unsure of what to do with this experience, so I thought I’d write about it. Presently, I’m sitting in an aging bus terminal…
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Time to Grind
His forearm ripped across my jawline as he went hunting for my neck. I tucked my chin to protect my throat, knowing he’d attempt a face crank next. And here he was, on my back, squeezing my mandible with every remaining ounce of strength. Like a shovelhead being driven into the dirt, I felt the…
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Moment on a Train
I’ve been here before; I know this place. Not the physical patch of earth, per se. Morocco is fresh: my first glance, a new flavor. The multiple flights getting here, sprinting to catch a departing train, the strain of pack straps as they dig into the front of my shoulders; this place—I know it well.…