Ruins are exotic, aren’t they?
Think of the Valley of the Kings, with those amazing tombs! (And an air-conditioned ice-cream shop with genuine Häagen-Dazs on the way out...)
Of course no one manages to remember the names of the strange deities (all jackals, hawks and crocodiles) and even our guides knew little about the meaning of the rituals performed of old.
Actually, Azim seemed more interested in early Christian remains. (Must I really email him that picture of me he asked for yesterday? My dress was nothing very special. Just elegant, not special.)
But those beliefs, those words and gestures surely made sense at the time, and they were taken very seriously. From Pharaoh to the basest slave, all professed the same creed and abided by the prescribed ceremonies.
In fact, it looks as if religion was the heart and soul of the country.
And what a country: an empire rather!
My phone displays reconstructions of temple liturgies with various dignitaries and officials standing in line, while priests of different ranks sing sacred hymns.
Many of those rites, or formulas, were translated from hieroglyphs: formula for the oil-festival-perfume with honey (my favourite); formula for entering the temple; formula for going to the stairway; formula for entering the sanctuary of the deity; formula for incense, etc.
I can’t help it...
My heart itches.
Much as I wish to ignore Azim, I feel compelled to read his letter further.
Where did I leave it?
Here...
Well past midnight...
Darling Clara, I had to come back.
I felt so silly, shaking hands with my sun, that is, with you. When all was calm and every light out, I made my way to the garden behind your room. Hiding against the purple bloom of the bougainvillea, I hoped that the wound in my soul would be less visible.
I saw you come through the curtains of your bedroom, barefoot, and kneel upon the grass, your gaze intent upon the moon, nearly full. I saw your shadow land amidst a silvery halo, and feared you would see mine, stretching in the same light.
My unease turned to bliss when I saw that the pace of the moon gradually led your shadow towards mine along the sloppy lawn.
My love left empty the mere muscle beating in my chest, and travelled to my outline spread out on the grass. My heart reached out to every herb and root, as if each one were my hair, my nerves and my fingers.
You were still kneeling in silence, looking to the heavens.
I wished to God that you might be praying. I prayed for you and me.
REGINA | 74