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The belly dancer

The venue was filled with smoke. Hundreds of lost stares focused on her. Upon a small and simple stage she rhythmically moved her hips. The jewels hanging from her light clothes sounded in time with the music and so did her belly button with the timpani.

Today I don’t even know if I dreamt it or lived it, perhaps both. I just know that, somewhere in Agadir, a woman has my pupils tattooed on her belly.

Find the original here.

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