The weather is hot, very hot here in Casablanca. I am packing my suit case and
looking forward to return to my home in London. Not because I enjoy London's
wintery grey skies and the grey tombs of concrete streets closing  in on me as
I head to work at the office. I miss my cosy bed and the sound of the alarm clock at
five am summoning me to wake up and get to work on time. Oh yes, the office
person I am. I work behind my walnut desk entering data that I never question.

I feel my soul is being devoured to nothingness and as evening presents itself there comes a glimpse of hope that tomorrow is only a night away. My footsteps hurriedly runs towards the sardined packed bus. Blank faces of people meet my eyes and my mind ponders as I look to switch the light on.


So here I am in Casablanca packing my suitcase and breathing in the exotic aromas
of an ancient land surrounded by tall palm trees that almost reach the vibrant hues
of blues in the sky. The music flows through the white washed walls and my body is
invaded with colors of rose healthy cheeks and a tanned body.

The Hotel Sauniere is surrounded by marbled columns and the inviting sculptures of
the French Renainsance and Morrocan garden seem in marital bliss. Whilst packing
my suitcase a sense of surrealism and anxiety overcomes me. Looking at the ocean from my hotel window I admire the lilac ocean waves that cools the beige sand.
I hear the laughter of people passing by. And I ask myself have I yet tasted the escargot served in with a hot sauce? hum, I am thinking to myself I could this evening have the couscous with coriander lamb and spices? Oh, and I almost forgot Madame et Monsieur Pierot have invited me to their chalet. I heard the belly dancers from Marakesh are performing a most exotic and artistic dance tonight at the hotel Music room. My eyes suddenly brighten and my lips curl to an subconscious smile, I breathe deeply and the light switches on like lights on a Christmas tree. My brain is filled by an electrical warmth travelling through the core of my existence; I laugh and say loudly Jean Pierre would be there.

I unpack my suitcase.

Marie