So. While the weather here in Rabat is toying with my emotions, I am dreaming of summer and spending some time by a large body of water, any body of water. I have been warned of the wrath of the summer gods and am already grinning at the thought of 40-50°C, I mean, seriously? I'm gonna wither and dry up if I don't stay near a pool. Nothing left to do but plan some vacation time to maybe run off to Essaouira for a weekend or two..
These last few weeks have been a journey in itself, like a post apocalyptic-breakup cleaning up mission. Its like everything has to fall down around you and be broken before you can see yourself again, for the first time in a long time. I have always suffered from my innate "talent" to let myself go completely and surrender to my passion and my unwavering faith that maybe happiness just might be around the corner, at last. The result of these emotional kamikaze missions, are usually a broken heart, and yet, the desire to do it all over again.
Some say the heart knows best, some say it is foolish, I say, it is resilient. It is a muscle made of wishes and wonders and hope and undying love, and if you are wise enough to decide that every kink and every sprain on this muscle can be healed and rehabilitated, then you shouldn't dread putting it to good use, over and over again.
It is, after all, a muscle ♥