Moments: Maroc

Would not normally keep posting this kind of stuff but since I need the posts and I've already wasted my own time on this personal stuff...

Continuation of the post from a few days ago:

There have been certain moments in my life that I've wanted to preserve, to remember forever. But that I didn't want to record. To write down, or to capture in a picture or with a tape recorder. Because I wanted to remember them on my own.

I guess I wanted the muted memories. With the foresight that my mind would fade the moments with time, I closed my eyes and willed myself to remember.

To imprint the feeling into my brain. Not the sight. But the feeling.

TWO:

An hours-long bus ride across the plains of Morocco. You sat next to me and played a song on your guitar.

I'm sure our belongings were all mixed together on a seat behind us or next to us. Your jacket, my camera, your hat, my purse.

You had played before. Maybe on the darkened rainy streets just outside Rabat's medina against a cafe window at a table with espresso and cake and hot chocolate milk because I had not yet become dependent on coffee.

Or maybe at the top of an ancient kasbah after smoking while overlooking the wild ocean.

But this time the song was new and it was for me. I don't remember the words but maybe I didn't want to.

I told you not to call me baby but I smiled and I laughed and it didn't really matter because we knew it was just part of one shared three-week moment in our separate lives.

-- Carolina Hidalgo