Ah, the Dyer's Souk in Marrakesh. Or perhaps I should say...an installation of warm wool....
Spun gold skeins like cotton candy.
Draped on pink walls, in great wooly tufts.
Yes, the Dyer's Souk in the Marrakech medina.
Come and be pigmented.
The world: and a forlorn tale of celestial brownie points
I was thinking about some of life’s great mysteries. Like God.
I was wondering about people’s certainties. How they were so sure, so very sure that their God was right, but his God was wrong. Or how they knew, just knew, that he was going to heaven but she, yes she.... was going to hell. All because his religion said such and such, and her religion said so and so, and they weren’t the same. {And as for those poor souls that didn’t believe at all, well, we all know where they are going, now don’t we?}
I was thinking how very sad it was. How very pointless. Because, really, who could ever know? And in the meantime, there was this great dividing line that stood between us. That -- despite all of our modernity, all of our education -- we were evolving in the wrong direction. Like planets spinning into different solar systems, lost in our own twirling. And that we would never be able to see all the stars in the universe at the same time. And love them all.
Morocco: and a tale of Winter coping mechanisms, Part 3: routine beauty
In winter, especially in winter, routine beauty - everyday loveliness - is what the doctor should order. Little luxuries that boost your mood when the days are short and cold {and the nights are long and even colder}.
Ah, new towels, pretty plates, a good hairbrush, cloth napkins, lemon soap, patterned pillowcases, a fluffy robe....
Invest in something for everyday -- just for you or to share.
Yes, something like the beauty of delicate Moroccan tea glasses.....So nice for sipping tea in mornings and evenings. {Those Moroccans....oh so clever.}
What elements make up your routine beauty? Do tell....
{Feel Better Campaign, brought to you by Me.}
See Part 1 of the Feel Better Campaign right here and Part 2 right here.
Manhattan: and a tale of food and marriage in a relationship's August
I was with her in a Manhattan restaurant, named August.
The kind of restaurant with beautiful girls...
and martinis made with the vodka of your choice and...a twist.
She sipped her drink. And then she told me.
He asked me, she said. He asked me to marry him.
Oh, I replied. Oh!
You see they had already been together, lived together, for 12 years.
Her ring twinkled like a star -- like a star so very close in the sky.
The waitress brought us the menus. My friend took her time before she ordered.
Mussels, perfectly broken open, the tender insides exposed. Fresh greens, just wilted. Toast, so comforting.
Of course. Of course.
I wondered then what it would be like to marry someone you had already been with for 12 years. Past the time of the racing heart, past the time of the first and second and 497th passionate kiss.
After the blush had worn off and there you were, with no make up. And he knew you, really. And you knew him, really. And there was no point in pretending. No point at all.
To marry then, yes, to marry then... not in the Spring of your relationship
but in the August.
PS Would love to hear about your August or non-August wedding.
PPS New beautiful stock of Moroccan Beni Ouarain carpets in my shop, Red Thread Souk.