Tawaraya Shirt—Tile private sale she sat on the living

she sat on the living room floor in a velvet jacket and no pants

The slices heated from raw to cooked

She got up

Slumping onto an overdressed chair

Tawaraya Shirt—Tile private sale she sat on the livingThe tall entryway of a stone building, lined in painted ceramic; a space for everyone and no one in particular, guarded by a repeating pattern of figures in loose pants. The last echo of a neighbors conversation, silenced by the close of a heavy door dressed in green lacquer. Outside, Moorish arches stretch into long corridors intent on framing every view: billowing frankincense, glistening olive mounds, and palms gazing shyly at their lean