Maysaloon - ميسلون

Some nights I wake up with a start and I realise I had seen you in a dream again. Always a presence though, as if you are veiled from my sight. At the precise moment when I am to see you again something happens. Even if I could turn back time, would I? Am I even the same person? Are you?

I decided to lock up the beautiful Andalusian memories in a small damascene mother of pearl box in my mind. There is nothing physical I can keep though, that has all gone. Only the memory of your name, cried out long ago upon ears that have since stopped listening. Did you even exist?

When the world is dark around me I open that little box just a little bit, and the sunshine dances on my face as I peer inside it, a gentle smile on my face. It caresses the stubble on my chin the way you once did, and gentle words remind me that I am a good man. I tenderly close the box and put it back in. I have a long journey ahead of me...