A fairytale beginning. Though the speaker is blind there will be heroes; Plantagenets and paupers. Who will be the hero? I cannot decide. Will it be the moon dipping to drink from the sea or the Imam, holy warrior of the Saracen hoard, saying his s'Allah's, giving thanks in riotous rhapsody.
Odysseus embarks on his journey as the moon dips to drink from the sea. The tide is right: a half formed answer to a prayer and the wind billows the sail, ready to fulfil the quest beyond a blue horizon.
A new shape emerges inky purple hovering between sky and sea.
The fruit of Plantagenets and paupers deconstruct their lives, feverish in their need to conquest, their right to attack, to liberate the land for themselves. A chance for honour? But while the birds scribble their message into the sky the Imam calls the faithful to prayer singing his beliefs in a calligraphy of song to be translated in the clouds of God's ear.
They will defend their land from the invaders and the Republic of love will embrace all new comers with a clear heart. All that lies between one God and another is the difference between a smock and a djellaba .
So it is the Imam who is the hero, for he holds a mirror to men's souls so that they will see the folly of their ways.
Magical Journey Day 1, Essaouira, Morocco 2016)
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