Another day in Rabat, I know well what it means to live in a city like this, the smell of urine and betrayal comes from its long wall, stinky smell that a city that was forced to be called Rabat is not worthy of! The sissy traitors spreading corruption all over it, sitting in desks and bars and drinking each other's blood, and exchanging dumb smiles and threats.
Beetles are walking in its
streets without a destination, nobody cares for them! Those fleas that are
stuck in the back of their pants.
The atrocious thing is a girl
wearing her dream dress walking with a childish joy so as the world sees her
beautiful dress … the good thing here is a bunch of men with mustaches sitting
in a café and looking at that little piece of flesh showing from the breast of
the girl wearing the dress, complaining and cursing her father in secret.
Many think that it's a dream
city, city of prosperity and richness, that's right, but just in a small part
of it, the part where the sultan and his citizen, but the rest and their
citizens are in the sewers.
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