My First Time

Yesterday I walked home in the dark for the first time since I’ve been here.

I didn’t plan to, it was light when school finished at 6. Somewhere, something in my brain clicked to thinking ‘Oh no, dark does not follow light. It is light and always shall be’
That part of my brain lies. It got dark almost as soon as I’d got myself onto the nice empty road which I walk up. During the day it’s full of cars, but at night it miraculously goes dead. I had to content myself with singing ‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina’ in the hopes it would put any potential muggers off the mad woman. I was relieved to get onto the well-lit Boulevard.

Also, I become a fine piece of woman at night. Maybe it’s because the men can no longer see my hideous face, but I get much more bother, walking the exact same route that I walk daily, wearing the exact same thing. It’s bizarre. But then that’s Morocco for you.

I have once again been given ridiculous amounts of homework, in a vain attempt to catch up to where we need to be. So I will leave you with this comment.

“You didn’t think I was going to talk about my first time did you? Are you kidding? My Mum reads this”

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