Sublime

Sadiq Khan.

Her smile made her verdict clear.

Basel,

had read enough ideas into that pale face to fill a library; I had imbued it with qualities that were not just unlikely, but impossible.

Despite having convinced myself that what I’d seen the night before was a chimera, a fantasy born of a drunken stupor, I was here now, waiting for a woman who might be no more than a hallucination.

Bolbol understood this desire to narrate everything all over again, to reveal a side of himself that no one had known. Abdel Latif wanted to leave his final story in Bolbol’s hands—not only his final wish.

Although I was twenty-four years old, I had not yet freed myself of the naivety of youth. I had allowed myself to be possessed by a simple painting, which probably wasn’t even that good.

furtive