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  • It was hot, real hot
    And dry, very dry
    It was in May, we were in the southern part of Oman, amazing country along the bottom east side of the Arabian peninsula.

    She said on the phone "you know, I really wish we could make a trip together before you come back from Saudi Arabia"
    "it's a deal" I quickly replied, just let me organize it

    at the same time I felt something was broken, details were trickling down from my attention. I was loosing her after so many years.
    We met in Dubai, we drove down to Muscat before flying down to Salalah

    Over there people from India, from everywhere the world was known then, would land to this stretch of rocky desert to collect hard drops of resin to spread them everywhere. Fruits of almost leafless trees seeding other countries.

    South of Oman is transformed every year by rain falling off the monsoon, hills become green, rivers swell and wet thirsty shores.

    I thought she would recover, I could make up for my not attending important details, but no.
    On the way back driving north, ocean on the right, deep desert on the left, I knew I lost her, her silences were of a different kind, her lips bent by something burning inside, uneasiness growing.
    I should have done something, I should have been able to see her leaving.

    Things do not come easily when you need them and people can disappear despite the common past, the countless words and pauses on long distance calls, roads and flights to join each other, calendar sheets falling at seasonal rhythms. But you can't do much about it I guess.

    Good bye my friend, I'll always be yours
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