Foisting an identity on people rather than allowing them the freedom and space to create their own is shady.

The past is buried deep within the ground in Rabat, although the ancient walls in the old city are still standing, painted in electrifying variations of royal blue that make the winding roads look like streamlets or shallow ocean water

If Aphrodite chills at home in Cyprus for most of the year, then Fez must be the goddess’s playground

A mother isn’t the person who births you; it’s the person who rears you and shows you love.

This is what I know about my parents. They spent the next several years trying to forget each other, and me.

Nobody, she felt, understood her-not her mother, not her father, not her sister or brother, none of the girls or boys at school, nadie - except her man.

I remember feeling that pieces of me were scattered around the world; I belonged to her, Mother Earth.