El Oued Eternal
"Radia maintains the famous sand roses in El Oued. When geologist Hichem arrives studying the Souf's unique formations, she crystallizes his understanding of time and beauty. 'El waqt yersom' (الوقت يرسم) - Time draws."
El Oued, city of a thousand domes, held treasures that grew from sand. Hichem came to study; he stayed to wonder.
"Sand roses?" He laughed initially. "Just gypsum crystals."
"Just?" Radia held one up. "El waqt yersom."
Time draws.
Her shop displayed formations that defied belief—crystal flowers, frozen storms, time made solid.
"Shhal el 'omr ta' hadi?"
"M'a million sna."
"W hadi?"
"M'aya." With me. "Twaldet lema wladt ana."
She was substantial—patience made flesh, time's abundance given form.
"Ki t'arfi?"
"El sahra t'allemni." The desert teaches. "El souf y'aref el waqt."
Days among the rose beds transformed his science. Crystals formed in ways his models predicted—and ways they didn't.
"Hada ma yemkensh."
"Bas hada hna." But here it is.
"How?"
"El waqt yersom wach yebghi."
"You speak like the crystals are alive."
"Koulech hay." Everything's alive. "El sahra. El ma. El waqt."
"Time isn't alive."
"Chouf."
She took him to where new roses were forming—watching crystals build in real time.
"Ya latif," he whispered.
"El waqt yersom," she said. "Nhna bass nchoufou."
Night in El Oued glowed with desert phosphorescence.
"El souf shar," she explained. The Souf glows.
"Why?"
"Kayna asrar el ard ma te'refhomech."
She led him to her private collection—roses no one else had seen.
"Hadi khassetni." These are mine.
"They're beautiful."
"W enti?"
He kissed her among frozen time.
"Radia..."
"El waqt jebek." Time brought you.
"El waqt ykhlini?"
"Nchoufou."
She undressed like crystals forming—slow, inevitable, perfect.
"Mashallah," he breathed.
"El waqt yersom," she smiled. "Ana mina el rasm."
I'm from the drawing.
He traced her like studying formations—learning where time had carved beauty.
"Hichem," she moaned.
"Hna." He found her crystalline center. "El jawhra."
The gem.
She shattered and reformed beneath his attention, pleasure geological in scale.
"Dkhol," she gasped. "El takwin."
The formation.
He entered her among sand roses, and understood what time meant.
"Ya rabbi," he groaned.
"El waqt yersom," she cried. "Hna w tawa."
Here and now.
Their rhythm was deep time—slow movements making monuments.
"Qrib," she warned.
"M'aya." He drove into eternity. "El waqt yersom."
They crystallized together, pleasure forming patterns that would last. Hichem held her through geological epochs.
"El research?" she asked.
"Changed."
"Wach?"
"Everything."
His papers included observations science couldn't explain—things he'd seen in her presence.
"El source?" colleagues asked.
"Time."
Now he studies beside her, learning what laboratories miss.
"El geologist w el soufiya," locals say.
"El waqt jab'na," Radia smiles.
"El waqt ykhallina," Hichem adds.
Some formations take forever.