I return to what? I am empty and full; my feelings locked away when they burned my body. Will you habibi, take me back once more? Shall we go together now to the olive grove? Orbed sun, soft skin, locked together. Whispers. Your hair falls; a single curl. My eyes drink you in. The roots of the olive tree run deep into our land; her branches reach out, turning towards the stars.
—Laraine Goddard
Habibi: my beloved, darling.
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