Checked in Fajr approaches, unfortunately I was unable to get a Window seat, a chance to see la sécheresse; the growing Sahara, I missed a window seat ticket to what would turn out to be a permiere viewing of Casablanca staring me.
Met Tesslim Salauden at the airport, we finished from the same Alma Mater, the Federal Univesity of Technology Minna, I knew I would meet a famillar face. His entourage of jellof rice and ox tail pepper soup helped ferry the night away.
I havn't made a stop over since my return trip from Dakar. For a muslim a to fly over the Sufi ocean south of Spain, to make a mere "stopover" at Morocco is a bad tease to the beautiful Magreb, Fez, Agadir, Casablanca, Bogart and Bergman.
An unwarranted insult to a concrete noun. But the heart is the from the King, of the King, and to the King. Let's all pray to wear Moroccan sandals one day. Amen, Amin, Om.
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