Last night we were performing around the corner from the market. The crowds were good and we were in find form. Naif kept the drunks in check while I played drums and Sarrah danced. She looked perfect against the city's dark backdrop. The firelight she danced around shone on her veils and cymbals, her body moving to the drum as though she had no other thought at that moment but her hips and the primal sound filling the night air. Rani almost let our supper burn, so caught up was he in her dance. The colors she wore swirled around her as her eyes met each strangers, mesmerizing them, drawing bigger and better tips from them.

We have much to celebrate. Not only were we flush with the feelings of wealth, but we felt a wonderful camaraderie we hadn't felt the last leg of our journey here. Perhaps it was the miles upon endless miles between civilization. Perhaps it was the new city, not knowing anyone. Whatever the reason, our troupe this night felt closer than we had in months. I enjoyed myself completely with them, drinking and laughing, playing mimic and tossing that silly tassel from Sarrah's hip skirt. So childlike. As though we shrugged off the cloak of adulthood for awhile.

It should be made a law. A certain block of time set aside each day for laughter with friends. The world would be a better place for it and my world would not be so bloody as it can be and as these deserts have seen.

The sparks from the fire floated off into the night, my gratitudes went with them, a message for the heavens.

Visit Dahab

Some men have too many hands; others not enough. I'm relatively sure men would consider it always a bonus for a woman to possess an extra hand or two. An extra might even feed into his fantasy of having some part worth the effort of three soft female hands.

Hands can be the most loving of body parts, touching with the sensuality of a lover, healing and soothing with the peace of a parent.

So how is it that a hand can become more annoying that the most ornery scorpion hidden in a satin slipper. Pinching at my nipples when I dance....out of sight of my friends or they'd not be doing it long.

Ah well, all part of the path in life. I take the good with the bad, to coin far too old an expression. I pick up the coins they've thrown. Afterward and without shame, I straighten myself up and walk with dignity to my home.

Oh, and I never forget that toss of the head, just before disappearing. *wink*


Visit Dahab