love letters. When the Damascus rosehad reached more than a meter, he decided it was time for Salma to enter the trap. He told her her eyes were sad and that her radiant white face was under threat of losing its bloom. He told her that the age of despair didn’t begin at forty. “It’s long after that. That’s just an illusion. Your despair, madam, is psychological and I have the answer.” He said he had an herbal potion that would give her back her luster and keep the dullness from her eyes. “Maybe it’s because I don’t sleep well at night,” she said. He disappeared for a few minutes and returned bearing a small flask.
“Is it like the Green Potion for the roses?” she asked.
“Take it and put a teaspoonful in a cup of hot tea before you go to bed and then see how well you sleep.”
He said if she put a teaspoonful of the herbal liquid into her tea in the evening and drank it before sleeping, she would wake up a new woman. “Drink it, come back here tomorrow evening at five, and tell me.”
Salma hesitated before agreeing. Then she took the small bottle and left, only to find herself the next morning just as the old pharmacist had said. Everything in her was bursting open and desire was plunging from her lips to her breasts. In the midst of the biting chills of March, she took a cold shower and ended up hotter than before. Everything in her was alight, she felt she was another woman, and she found herself, without knowing how or why, on her way to the pharmacy. She remembered the man had told her to come at five in the evening but she was in front of his shop door at ten in the morning. He saw her, made a sign to her with his finger to go away, and held up the five fingers of his hand to remind her of their appointment. Salma’s face flushed red with embarrassment and shame and she left, having decided never to return. She felt humiliated before this older man who was always swallowing his saliva and gargling with water and spitting it out because his salivary glands had dried up. Despite this, she found herself counting the minutes; time hardened over her eyes andrefused to move. She took a hot shower, stood contemplating her naked body before the mirror, and was swept by an irresistible lust. She was aware of her body as she never had been before. She approached the mirror to allow her body to embrace its image and saw desire dangling like bunches of light and darkness. She told the old pharmacist, who was greedily licking her breasts with his tongue, that the waters of his flask had watered both the image and the shadow of the image as the two merged and parted, and that she’d discovered the other woman who lived inside her. “Tell me, doctor. What’s that called?”
At a quarter to five Salma had found herself walking once more in the direction of the pharmacy where the man was waiting for her. He took her hand and led her into the back room. She smelled perfumes, herbs, and medicines, felt dizzy, and put out her hand to steady herself against the wall. The pharmacist took her by the arm and sat her down on the couch and began to devour her. She told him, “Take me,” and he answered that he was going to eat her and started devouring her breasts. She tried to ask him about the mirror and how she’d seen the image merging with its shadow but he told her to stop talking. “No talking!” he yelled at her, so she stopped talking and went inside herself, where everything was overflowing. Slowly, darkness spread over the man and the woman lying on the bed of lust and they became like two shadows.
And when the rite of love that the pharmacist refused to call love had ended, Salma put on her clothes and got ready to leave. This time, however, she refused to take the little bottle. “That’s it, Nasri. Hend and Nasim are about to get married and you still want to fool around? That’s it, my dear. I’m getting old and soon I’ll be a grandmother. Plus you’re never satisfied. Tell me: you give
“Is it like the Green Potion for the roses?” she asked.
“Take it and put a teaspoonful in a cup of hot tea before you go to bed and then see how well you sleep.”
He said if she put a teaspoonful of the herbal liquid into her tea in the evening and drank it before sleeping, she would wake up a new woman. “Drink it, come back here tomorrow evening at five, and tell me.”
Salma hesitated before agreeing. Then she took the small bottle and left, only to find herself the next morning just as the old pharmacist had said. Everything in her was bursting open and desire was plunging from her lips to her breasts. In the midst of the biting chills of March, she took a cold shower and ended up hotter than before. Everything in her was alight, she felt she was another woman, and she found herself, without knowing how or why, on her way to the pharmacy. She remembered the man had told her to come at five in the evening but she was in front of his shop door at ten in the morning. He saw her, made a sign to her with his finger to go away, and held up the five fingers of his hand to remind her of their appointment. Salma’s face flushed red with embarrassment and shame and she left, having decided never to return. She felt humiliated before this older man who was always swallowing his saliva and gargling with water and spitting it out because his salivary glands had dried up. Despite this, she found herself counting the minutes; time hardened over her eyes andrefused to move. She took a hot shower, stood contemplating her naked body before the mirror, and was swept by an irresistible lust. She was aware of her body as she never had been before. She approached the mirror to allow her body to embrace its image and saw desire dangling like bunches of light and darkness. She told the old pharmacist, who was greedily licking her breasts with his tongue, that the waters of his flask had watered both the image and the shadow of the image as the two merged and parted, and that she’d discovered the other woman who lived inside her. “Tell me, doctor. What’s that called?”
At a quarter to five Salma had found herself walking once more in the direction of the pharmacy where the man was waiting for her. He took her hand and led her into the back room. She smelled perfumes, herbs, and medicines, felt dizzy, and put out her hand to steady herself against the wall. The pharmacist took her by the arm and sat her down on the couch and began to devour her. She told him, “Take me,” and he answered that he was going to eat her and started devouring her breasts. She tried to ask him about the mirror and how she’d seen the image merging with its shadow but he told her to stop talking. “No talking!” he yelled at her, so she stopped talking and went inside herself, where everything was overflowing. Slowly, darkness spread over the man and the woman lying on the bed of lust and they became like two shadows.
And when the rite of love that the pharmacist refused to call love had ended, Salma put on her clothes and got ready to leave. This time, however, she refused to take the little bottle. “That’s it, Nasri. Hend and Nasim are about to get married and you still want to fool around? That’s it, my dear. I’m getting old and soon I’ll be a grandmother. Plus you’re never satisfied. Tell me: you give
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