There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only.
It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world.
Without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning. Maktub, thought the boy.
The Englishman shook the boy: “Come on, ask her!” The boy stepped closer to the girl, and when she smiled, he did the same.
“What’s your name?” he asked. “Fatima,” the girl said, averting her eyes.
“That’s what some women in my country are called.” “It’s the name of the Prophet’s daughter,” Fatima said.
“The invaders carried the name everywhere.” The beautiful girl spoke of the invaders with pride.
The Englishman prodded him, and the boy asked her about the man who cured people’s illnesses.
“That’s the man who knows all the secrets of the world,” she said. “He communicates with the genies of the desert.”
The genies were the spirits of good and evil. And the girl pointed to the south, indicating that it was there the strange man lived.
Then she filled her vessel with water and left. The Englishman vanished, too, gone to find the alchemist.
And the boy sat there by the well for a long time, remembering that one day in Tarifa the levanter had brought to him
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