the rising sun

”Monica, Monica pssst are you awake?” it was 6:30 and my host stuck his head inside the room where I was sleeping. I got up and got dressed. He was taking me out for breakfast to watch the sunrise over Rabat.

I didn’t bring neither my phone nor camera so I can’t show you any pictures. But as the sun coloured the white, grey and brown walls orange the people came from their morning-prayer to have tea or  unpack delivers to shops. The streets smelled of yesterdays fish and the garbage bags were lying in every corner waiting to be picked up.

We sat down by a cafe close to the parking where Bartek and I almost exactly one year ago got into Manfreds car to drive through Western Sahara.
We had coffee and croissants.

Slowly, Rabat was awakening.

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