Section III
2022
Growing on a Hog Farm on the Outskirts of Casablanca el habib louai
Last night, I had a strange dream. I dreamed I grew up on a hog farm on the outskirts of Casablanca. I was quite different then. Guilty of nothing as I had never thought of social climbing issues, or been to meetings to oppose the new constitution. I was brutally named after my grandfather who used to say what you see is what you get, neither more nor less, but clean-limbed. Now, I realize why his shadow Was on every other door I passed through. Worries? I had very few as everything looked pure and calm through my lenses. Icy saints walked around protecting me from staggering deaths, and other crazy things that have always missed our doorstep by virtue of my grandmother’s incantations, and the luck we inherited. I kind of forgot why I came to this world Or what I wanted to say every time we came to a long Q and A period. Dreams became an earthy alternative to everything we wanted to do. They splashed on everything to make it fit in all my tedious Berber summers.
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