What lay behind the mirror...

Without further ado, the conclusion to that story.

I don't know what prompted me to take the mirror off the wall, but I did. That was when I found it written on the back. It was a message from people who had stayed there before.






It is a queer little thing but at the same time endearing. Finding messages hidden by other people, you feel a bit like a child again. When I looked around the room I found more of them, not from the same people but from different people who had stayed in the room.


In the end, I did what any respectable boy would do, I picked a few spots and wrote my own little message with a date, and I left this for others to find if they were so inclined. This was my little message in a bottle. This was the mark I left in Tangiers.

A few days later I left. I got on a boat and headed for Spain. I had had the opportunity to take a flight from Rabat to Madrid but I wanted to make the trip on the boat that crosses the Straits of Gibraltar at the mouth of the Mediterranean.
This was to be my last glimpse of Morocco -- from a boat as it pulled away from land into the wide blue ocean.



I was sick the whole way and spent all my time out on the deck where the fresh salt air kept me from throwing up. We pulled out at 6pm and I was to arrive in the port of Algeciras near 10 pm.

For some reason, the trip felt lonely and all I could think of was how it felt to leave a place again. The feeling of melancholy was to be short lived as new dramas awaited in Spain.