interstices

honestly, i don't understand my life.
or, i finally do, and realize that i must, for all i've been given, find a more meaningful way to give back.

in these interstices, open windows into the foreign, such as most people never get.
my love for The Alexandria Quartets honored in every leaning porch, every steady, wary, intelligent gaze. not much time on the computer here, and the sixteen candles in the lobby almost burnt out, still the horns honking on the Corniche (sp) and Sameh (who just brought me a glass of red wine, telling me his name means 'forgive me' ["I don't know why my father named me that"] um... where was I, where am I? Sameh, and all the rest, closing up for the night. but I am jetlagged after 34 hours of travel and as wide awake as I've ever been.
such a day.

again (again for me? why?? the song from the minarette, the goats brought to town to trade for marriages, (impossible to achieve here, apparently moneymoneyrulesrulestradition -poor frustrated men}.still, in it all, the woman next to the dryland boat in the alley, the 1910 bicycle on the dark, windy pier, the hundredthingsyoucan do with a scarf, the lingering faces of my beautiful German family - thanks Uli, if you read this, for your generosity -- sorry about the swingset.

just waiting now for the arrival of my brother.

it is time to go now.
i am humbled. grateful.
goodnight from Alexandria.