Incapable Dreams

A cold shower and some deep breaths later she stumbles back to her life, her world and decides to write. It’s late and she knows that she should be sleeping, or reading about pigeons as recommended. To be fair on him she wants to read, wants to read and read and read but it isn’t in her concentration. She just cannot seem to get her eyes to part with the red flashes of the communications on her blackberry. This lust to know what people think of her, this incapablility to get through the day without a pleasing word, a glancing smile from a stranger is slowly drowning her voice, her self. And what does one to to reclaim a life? To replenish the soul with vital energies and what she wouldn’t give to be smiling not only from her face, but from her heart and her liver...

Thoughts trip-step back to Morocco and the journey. No money but the will to try it. No money just tickets. A risk, an exciting glance on the ferry, a new friend, an Arabic speaking friend. Things will change, born on the same day. Reborn in the same moment. When will this risk, this chance taking risk and love and lust resurface?

She beckons to the train ticket inspector in her dreams. Please let me stay, please let me not be seen passing though. Please don’t change the course of my life, my journey. I am supposed to be here, it is the will of the stars, the will of the Gods.