Tide to tide. Dusk to dusk.

I was swept away by this hypnotic, heartbeat sounding bass drum, it was so familiar that I simply couldn’t ignore it.
It was the intro of Massive Attack's 'Teardrop”, slowly surging to the mesmerising vocal voice by Elizabeth Fraser.
Overlooking Saudi Arabia across the Gulf of Aqaba where leads to the Red Sea.
Tide to tide.
Dusk to dusk.

And when you were in the seafront bar in Dahab. The local bands were playing.
Arabic version of ‘Hotel California’, did it even exist?

I was wearing a fake wedding ring, married to an imaginary lover.
There would be many of them. From there, they would be my companion, counterpart, intellectual soulmates, challengers, my best friends and destiny.
We belonged to each other.

But all I am missing is the Polish Widower.
The most gentle man who has the kindest eyes and brows.
When he looks down, you can always notice his blonde almost silver eyelashes under the sun.
A few dust circling in the air, as of love.
His big palm then lightly place on your head, and the lips follow with a peck on your forehead.
'Good morning', with the unmissable accent. Followed with an unmissable smile.

All these little fondest imaginary fictional fuzziness. The opaque, abstract surviving desire, faulty reasoning, and more.