November 8, 2010

Tur Disaala

If Tordesillas were Tur Disaala And the ‘New World’ were Moorish Would the yearning have been so tacit for the treasures of an unknown empire The sailing ships westward from Al-Ishbuna
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The Faithful Soldier, Prompted

If I die on this piece-of-shit road, Lubna’s chances die with me. Ali leveled his shotgun at the growling tiger. In the name of God, who needs no credit rating, let me live! Even when he’d been a soldier, Ali hadn’t been very religious. But facing death brought the old invocations to mind.
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50 Fatwas for the Virtuous Vampire

The woman smelled good–very, very good. Ibrahim trailed her scent through the Suq al’Ala, following her fragrance amid the stench of vendors who had been standing in the hot sun since dawn, the stink of rotting vegetables, the pungent odors of coriander and cinnamon hanging above tables of stacked apples and lemons, the fumes of oil and gas from passing cars, the musk of donkeys and camels and fowl destined to be dinner.
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