fiction by Phyllis Carol Agins

The Portrait: Algeria 1919

She, Etamine, leaves no mark as she moves through the medina’s narrow streets that lead to the new town the French have built. No one has to cry, Baleck, baleck, Out of the way. She clings to the walls, never minding the water that puddles there or the pockets of dog piss. She’ll return home in the same state she has left — clean, without dust on her shoes. Even her shadow on the whitewashed walls surprises her.

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