Description
She ran her tongue over her lips, a tickle of coffee foam still lingering there, she likes her breath smeared with coffee, she feels the temptation of a coffee-dipped lip is irresistible, she remembers his lips in the last sip of coffee, he gives her every morning a lick, to plunder her caffeine throughout his absence, with a drunken smile that hid that taste.
“Like an addiction to diamonds, oud wood eats up my bank account, but nothing like it ignites my imagination. With incense, I am a priest from another world, I can paint you a favorite exit from your Arab future, we are a nation that leads people to ruin.” He provokes everyone who attends a council and returns to his den, drinking more incense until he sterilizes his beautiful wife, and replaces the city's air with a cloud in which he drowns and sinks.
Raja Alem writes with a passion for writing, she writes with a pleasure that sneaks up on a reader who is ready to submit to the magic of writing and language, and when he reaches this limit, he falls captive to worlds that he runs after and cannot see them for what they really are, they have a cloud of a mystical soul, a cloud that always puts you in a state of inability to touch. .
