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In our house in Bayda, there's a Neem tree,
Five-years old and unhealthy.
In Tripoli, it covers most of the streets;
I knew of its name in its fifth year, when I'd noticed its expanding colonies in the city. They're quite scarce in Bayda. (No "its" anymore)
My headset soundtrack had stopped at Guns n' Roses' Estranged before I was stuck in Tripoli for over three weeks. Impoverished and movie-less.
By the time the plane lands in Bayda, Soundtrack will have stopped at Sweet Home Alabama. (Well, it stopped few hours ago, and I'm not planning to play the soundtrack tonight. Never mind the Future Perfect)
Music recognizes no towns, I assumed. (And I knew for certain, that I'd always been less Estranged in Tripoli than I had ever been in Bayda. Hmmm)
On my way to the airport, I will have a Dinar and fifty cents in my pocket, with my lost-and-found-this-morning student's ID.
Eggs-and-cheese sandwiches cost 1.5 Dinars at the airport.
I hope they won't add Harissa.