Ya Wayli: There Are Troubles
I cannot think more, but Yussef says, Habibi, laysh? You have changed. Bah! I say. Sa’b giddan. What are words—diamonds even—compared to stars? Yet when I see the moon rise over the Blue Dunes, feel myself sink in the pool by the well, and at night, wrapping myself in crude blankets on my rooftop cot . . .
The Island of Touches