i've finished my work
and i'm off to zanzibar!
where i'm going to lie like this.
and watch the children in the blue.
and eat coconuts in a hammock and dream things...
i'll listen to the wind in the palms at night and ghost whisperings. and pretend everything is real.
i'll draw hearts in the white sand.
we'll find treasures on the beach and build fairy castles for the tide to feast on..
and i shall make up tales to scare and "delight" the children again. (and worry the father.)
yes. i shall. when we sit in the zanzibar twilight, facing into a frisky wind smelling of cloves and jasmine, a cheeky little wind which tears at our hair, when we stare silently at an early baleful moon rising over the sea, with apple calm minds, i shall regale them with the tale of the ghost man from paje. who cycles by after midnight. all you see is a pale figure, almost like a host of fireflies, as you hear his bicycle tyres crunch over the shells at low tide. he only rides by when the moon is high, looking for his lost love, calling calling calling, "fatima, fatima, fatima". sometimes, if you listen hard enough, you can hear it above the wind.... and if you're brave enough to peek out onto the pearly white beach, barred with the moon shadows of the coconut palms, you might just spy the glint of his silver bicycle flittering through the shadows....i think i saw him once, last time i was here. i did. i did. i did......well, of course i did, why would i lie? and sometimes, even, he will come knocking on your door...(okokok only if the first part does not have desired effects....)
i shall make time to wander through stone town, stopping in dark dukkas which smell musty and hide treasures from old india; old sabres from oman and giant keys for giant hearts; finding treasures and twinkling twirling skirts and beaded slippers.
and my heart shall feel so full with love, again and again and again. and again.
toodely toot, y'all, i'll be seein' ya. bisous X.X.X. spicy ones from zanzibar x j