I’ve been friends with two women, Deby and Ale, for short of forty years. Our friendship survived my seven years in the US, where I did my graduate studies; Ale’s years in Spain, where she studied for her master’s and her PhD and where she’s still teaching at the university; and my last years back in the US, where I’m still living. Since my injury, we’ve been communicating via Whatsapp. Deby put together a WhatsApp group, and we organize a group video call every now and then – the wonders of contemporary technology.
Ale travels quite a lot. While she was traveling, she fell in love with Africa. Since then, she’s been flying to this continent whenever she has a chance. She was visiting Marrakesh and sent pictures of the Saharan desert to the WhatsApp group. I watched them for a long time and was fascinated: the large, mountainous desert at sunset, with an expanse of orange sky surrounding a dazzling circle of sun; soft mountains of ocher sand stretching endlessly; shadows of turbaned people riding camels cast on the sand mountains. I was entering a strange world on the border between fantasy and reality, and in watching this world, I could picture myself traveling across it. I could walk through it without needing to walk.
Ale travels quite a lot. While she was traveling, she fell in love with Africa. Since then, she’s been flying to this continent whenever she has a chance. She was visiting Marrakesh and sent pictures of the Saharan desert to the WhatsApp group. I watched them for a long time and was fascinated: the large, mountainous desert at sunset, with an expanse of orange sky surrounding a dazzling circle of sun; soft mountains of ocher sand stretching endlessly; shadows of turbaned people riding camels cast on the sand mountains. I was entering a strange world on the border between fantasy and reality, and in watching this world, I could picture myself traveling across it. I could walk through it without needing to walk.
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