I wanted it. I didn't want it. It cost too much. I put it down. He grabbed my arm. Again. Gently. No. "It's very old ... from the slave days. Copper." Well, it wasn't copper. Bronze, I guessed. Really heavy, 6 inches tall, it just fit on my forearm. "I'll throw in a whip ..." Sold! Is it really antique? Was $300 a crazy price? It does whisper to me ... of another era, another people, endless weeks of desert on camelback. Sweat. And labor. Haunting. Romantic.
Boutique du Troq, Zagora, Morocco.