i gave them my email address, knowing that this communication through hands and eyes and hearts will never translate onto a screen, so i hold a place in my memory for them as i walk away and they follow me down the hill to bid me adieu.
this is merely the best of my many stories of sweet moroccans.
it is amazing how much cultural similarity can be found between individuals brought up worlds and assumptions apart. i found again today how small this place we call the world is, and how pure the spirit of a gaggle of 13 year old boys can be. they always laugh at each other, there is always a goof and a quiet one and a serious one: "hey, come on, guys, that's enough, leave her alone!" they always want to impress older women and they never know how much their sincerity really does.