Written by: Shubnum Khan
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By Morning I Am a Weeping Fig

I creep into the city at dusk. I have not been here for many years. Years or decades? I cannot tell, but when I see her, I will know how long it has been. Every city carries a distinct feeling like every human carries a unique scent and when I return to Casablanca it feels the same; old grandeur, stale smoke and the sense that everything is changing.
 — 
January 30, 2026

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