Essaouira, January 24, 2024 M. The wind is on my back as i’m writing to you. Black eyes into the Pacific blue. You look at me, I can see you. I have nothing to fear. I am on the rooftop, the sun caressing my back. Somewhere the adan1the call to prayer and the sound of waves. I am writing from a language in exile. Back home, we hear no waves and…