Eyes lined with glittery shadow confessed her sadness in my kitchen over a glass of Johnny Walker Black. Just a few months ago she spent years living in an Egyptian condo.
He was an older white man who needed a translator, caretaker, and occasional lover.
The American businessman rescued her from a common life at the ripe age of eighteen.
She occasionally walked among her people, flashing diamonds and designer clothing.
"I was like a bird in a beautiful golden cage. Fifteen years...I had everything, but money doesn't buy you happiness.”
Her voice cracked and she took a sip of Jack.
“I would give it all back and live as a poor Egyptian," she cried. "I wasted my young years drinking by myself in the fanciest of hotels in France, Italy, Spain..”
Later that week, closing her eyes on Rockaway beach she felt the souls of pharaohs and dark rivers in her heart. In her sand there are leopard fish skeletons with rose petal hearts.
Her pink lips part under her sparkling eyes. “Here I am in New York City," she thought. "I have nothing. I am free..”