“Beb Bhar” was in full swing, as always is. Many were on the move, tending to their businesses or so methought; others were strolling about; still some other tourists were standing in reverence, looking at the stupendous “Beb,” taking some snapshots and she was there in the midst of all that hustle, with her back against an about-30-centimeter- street post, her legs thinly covered and her head bent down while stretching her wrinkled and feeble hand.
Her frail face was downward most of the time oblivious to the passers-by. She was in her 60’s. Life was passing her by; or what it seemed.
I was seated in the Edinar Café, witnessing her from afar. I did not know whether life had spared her all that people who were walking by her were busy looking for, so busy as to pay attention to her; or life had dragged us into its never-ending wormhole while sparing her our moth-like end.
Or both of us had been deceived.
TunisianMonitorOnline (Achour Chakhar high school teacher, holding an MA in linguistics and preparing for his PhD)
