If imperial cities are burdened by the pride
In their nostalgic past,
Casa enjoys its daily bodiness,
Where the sacred is constantly echoed by profanity.A melting pot, or rather
A mosaic of peoples,
But still the largest countryside in the land.A Columbus / Ibn Battouta spirit drives its youth
To set their hearts on the remotest points of the globe,
To the unknown
To inscribe heroic tales.Its shocking vulgarity is a reminder of
Modernity
Or rather its plagiarism, a hybrid process without a shape, yet.
Hooligans, pleasure in the bus, speech in contest, the soul of cash
Suggest a ruthless context of loss of whiteness,
Of virginity:
Casa la blanche,
Dar Al Baida, the faithless.Seduced by some mysterious magic,
Its inhabitants prefer polluted anonymity
To the temptation of death in life
In the suffocating domesticity of a suburban site
Or in a provincial town of lesser fame.
Last modified: 31 May 2001