The desert in our backyard was so happy to host a vine, seeded by Amin before he leaves for his long bi-yearly vacation. After a few weeks of mist, sun, water and care, those few square meters hosted also a chair that became my "french" refuge whenever I needed to think alone. French oldies filled the air, the cool breeze interrupted the sun lashes, and that green spot grew bigger to hide the white wall and let me think the horizon is much larger behind the vine. Few romantic weeks passed then one morning, I open the back door to discover that something has uncovered the soil and the wall, and let the sun lash all the creatures who listened to my french oldies. not a single leave was left... it was a sad disaster to look at. The day passed a few times. I was trying to rewrite that chapter every hour by opening the door and looking again, but the story didn't change, till I had a closer look at the vine grave, and found zillions of black stuff,
Words are too many to keep in my mind.