—James Henry Leigh Hunt, “A Thought of the Nile” “WILLOW? GOD HELP US, IT’S RAINING—” I sat up in bed, still half-dreaming, and tried to gather my thoughts. “It can’t be raining,” I said. “Look outside!” The voice on the other end of the telephone belonged to Nevine, our wedding planner. She was right: a chill was in the air and the sky beyond our salmon-colored shutters was a dark brooding color. The rose bush in the garden below danced under a stream of fat raindrops. It was my wedding day, and in one of the driest cities on earth, it was raining. “Listen, I’ve ordered a bigger tent,” said Nevine. “A third again as big as the old one.” “So everything is okay?” But Nevine had turned away from the phone to speak hurriedly to someone whose voice I couldn’t hear. I lifted my free hand to my face and breathed the herbal scent of henna and eucalyptus: my palms and feet were covered in flowers, stars, and peacocks, all meticulously drawn in heavy red-brown dye.
What do You think about The Butterfly Mosque (2010)?
