In his carefully rehearsed fantasies, he would come home on a sunny day, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, his hair gelled back and his mustache trimmed. His new car would be stacked to the roof with gifts for everyone in the family. When he rang the doorbell, his wife and his aging parents would greet him with smiles on their faces. He would take his wife into his arms, lift her, and they would twirl, like in the movies. Within days of his arrival, he would move them from the decrepit apartment in a poor neighborhood of Casablanca to one of those modern buildings that sprang up daily in the city. But as the date of his return to Morocco approached, Aziz found that he had to alter the details of his daydreams. He had imagined he’d arrive in a late-model car, but now he thought that a car trip would be impractical, and besides, he didn’t think his beat-up Volkswagen could sustain the 800 kilometers from Madrid to Casablanca. So he had booked himself on a Royal Air Maroc flight instead.
What do You think about Hope & Other Dangerous Pursuits?
