At first he didn't know who I was. My sunglasses, my ponytail. He looked at my trainers. "You are 'la' Carmen, right?" It was fictional to return to that place and see how almost every leaf was untouched. A van with a scary clown sprayed on the back belonged to a guy from Liechtenstein, "the sole person I've met from there," said Antoan. Antoan and I have been siblings in law since he drank the cold remains from my coffeemaker decades, centuries ago, and I got mad at him for having an espresso in a whiskey glass. "How is life, girl?" "Too short, don't they say that?" "Well, that depends... not on this side of the hill, I guess." The Sufi population had increased since last time. Antoan was growing peppermint for them. "God wants the easy ways, don't mistake them with the short ones."
There was something missing though, between the rosebush and the wire fence. "Where is the palm tree, Ant? It was my age." " Buds ate it last year." The mountains were a caramelized plasterboard stage surrounding me. The river was clearer and faster, thinner than I thought. Time had exactly the same weight; the sound of the reed bed and the dogs barking.
"How's your mum?" "She's at the coast." "Does she still make up prank calls?" "Yeah, she does." "What a seagull your mum. The other day I reminded her. She used to swear she wouldn't travel to a country worse than this one. Now I share her opinion." "Where did you get robbed, Antoan?" "She was from Marrakesh." "If femme, fatale." "hahaha... you remember that! By the way, where have you been all these years?" "Collecting grapes in marshlands. Can I pluck some grenades?" "As many as you can reach."
The valley was calm, the people were quiet; it was the kind of muting that satisfaction holds not to be noticed, not to be disturbed by anyone, to taste itself, to survive someway. "Take care, Antoan." "Godspeed, girl!"
