Souk Ahras Soul
"Leila runs a pottery workshop in Saint Augustine's birthplace. When philosopher Gabriel arrives tracing Augustine's origins, she shapes his understanding of faith and flesh. 'El roh tetshakkel' (الروح تتشكّل) - The soul takes form."
Souk Ahras—Thagaste—gave the world Augustine. Gabriel came seeking origins.
"Augustine's house?" he asked.
"El hjar ma yet'arfouche." The stones don't know. "El roh tetbqa."
But the soul remains.
Leila's pottery workshop occupied ancient ground—maybe Augustine's neighborhood, maybe not.
"Does it matter?"
"El makan ma yehemmch."
"Then what matters?"
"El roh tetshakkel."
She was substantial—hands that shaped clay and questions, body that held centuries.
"You make religious pottery?"
"El pottery koulha religious."
"How so?"
"El tin ytoul roh."
Days at her wheel humbled him. Gabriel watched form emerge from formlessness.
"Augustine would have understood this."
"Augustine kan hna."
"You mean spiritually?"
"N'aref wach n'aref."
"What do you know?"
"El roh tetshakkel." The soul takes form. "Kima el tin."
Night brought philosophical conversation—her questions deeper than his.
"Augustine asked about flesh and spirit."
"Sah."
"You've read him?"
"N'aych m'ah."
"Live with him?"
"Hna wlad bladou." We're children of his place. "El makan y'allem."
"Gabriel..."
"Sah."
"Tebghi te'ref wach 'raf Augustine?"
"Aiwa."
"El roh w el jism wahd."
Soul and flesh are one.
She kissed him with potter's mouth—creative, shaping, transforming.
"Hada..."
"El haqiqa."
She undressed in workshop lamplight, her curves clay-smooth.
"Mashallah," he breathed.
"El tin," she said. "Ana tin."
He shaped her with philosopher's hands—seeking essence, finding form.
"Leila," he moaned.
"Hna." She guided him. "El ashkal."
She formed beneath his attention, pleasure sculpted.
"Dkhol," she gasped. "El roh."
He entered her in Augustine's homeland, and understood what the saint had sought.
"El roh tetshakkel," she cried.
"Fina."
Their rhythm was creation—formless becoming form, flesh becoming spirit.
"Qrib," she warned.
"M'aya." He drove into soul. "El roh tetshakkel."
They formed together, pleasure essential. Gabriel held her through the firing.
"El philosophy?" she asked.
"Completed."
"Wach lqit?"
"What Augustine found."
His book connected Augustine to living tradition—faith in flesh, spirit in clay.
"El thesis?" academics asked.
"El roh tetshakkel."
Now he shapes clay beside her, learning what books miss.
"El philosopher w el fakhkhara," students say.
"El roh jab'tna," Leila smiles.
"El roh tkhallina," Gabriel adds.
Some forms shape themselves.