"I saw her upon nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too!" ― William Wordsworth On the left side, there was a middle-aged man, sitting next to some reddish sacks filled to the brim with pyramids of dried apricots. He was clicking a silver coin near a magnificent fountain that used to play with energetic cadences and wonderful rhythms. It used to be the symbol of the souk. It was a pillar from the glorious past and an emblem of prosperity but now numbness found its way all over it while the torrid heat circled around its marble floor, getting yellowish. The seller's swollen tongue was mixed with an insatiable thirst. He felt lost as if he was in a scorched-brown desert that sowed a pan of emptiness, a coliseum of death. The grilled and blasted smell of the sun tiptoed so closely to his face. His lungs were huffing and as he averted his eyes to the oasis to recall the awe-inspiring images of the past, lamentations seemed to feast on his brain cells. The oasis looked like a...
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