'Ayn.
The Arabic letter that sounds like someone being strangled, and the sound Marlena made each time she smelled my left hand after I used a squat toilet.
The sun sets over the Sahara, and we're led into a Berber tent, covered with carpets and candlelit. The atmosphere suddenly changes from comic to surreal, as the day continues to stretch, bend and twist and we are blanketed by the absolute silence of the desert. In the next room, our guide and others begin preparing a meal. The hash that we smoke helps to make this night incomprehensible, as minutes later a fire is lit and our guide and his friends begin playing traditional Berber desert music on drums and empty water canisters, taking breaks to light the pipe again.
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