the alhambra. according to a young hippy-type, tucking his blond locks behind his ear and nodding his head in self-congratulation in having such an astute observation.it is an ancient castle, the fortress of muslim rulers, conquered by ferdinand and isabella, forgotten for centuries until washington irving and the romantics took interest. buildings built upon others, islamic walls holding up a christian ceiling. the confluence of two belief systems. muslim rooms containing imperfections so as not to challenge the perfectness of allah, lots of sets of sevens, depictions through symbol of heaven and earth. christian carvings mostly allusions of grandeur, large depictions of biblical stories and the conflation of ferdinand and isabella as holy rulers.
the gardens are called generalife, places of pleasure for muslim rulers in harems to twentieth century american writers. alex and i sit on the edge of one, listening to the water flow through the various fountains, the budding orange blossoms wafting in the dry sunny air, overlooking the fortress of the alhambra, and this is where i laid down in alex´s lap and let my heavy eyelids close, and took a nap. like an ancient islamic concubine lying among the others in the harem, i relax in this place of pleasure, awaiting my moment of duty.
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