Excerp from 'A Long Visit to Morocco'
(short short story by Mr. Fiddle)

As Nadia began to place some of it in the top of the hookah, Lillian gave us a lesson on the history of its use. She explained that the people of the desert were nomadic people that lived in tents and solitude. Their Muslim religion was the majority of their thoughts and lives and the religion they followed did not allow for drinks that would poison their minds and bodies or would they do sinful or hurtful things against others.

They spent their evenings in their tents with others from the tribe, smoking from the hookah and telling stories of their families, their courageous ancestors and prophesizing of the future. I sat in my chair and let Lillian’s story take me into the desert, to the village of this tribe. I stood before several tents, a flap of each opened and the light from within defining the doorway which muffled Arabic voices escaped and blended with the breathing of weary camels that were anchored in the ground surrounding the village and illuminated by the light of a crescent moon as it bounced off the tops of the tents and cast shadows across the shimmering particles of glass. I lay upon the sand and gazed into the clear night sky that was filled with the lights of a thousand stars that went unseen by the eyes of a million others.