Violet is the warmth of silver worn in the sun. This morning I followed a purple fish down an alley that led to a kaleidoscope of miniature open doors. There I found a kind woman who helped me print my plane ticket. She apologised that her printer was only printing in purple and offered me coffee. I left and followed a wizard carrying a now familiar violet non plastic bag. A woman in purple robes crossed his path. Later I met a Mohammed who had made a textile collage on the medina wall with these same bags. He showed me an invention he had made. A machine to create complex plaits of purple braid. He opened a door for me to a secret place.
I bought a pair of miniature yellow shoes for Rita they did not have them in violet perhaps it is not a colour for the very young?
At the port past the place where stones are broken open and glimmer with violet and the same gold green as the pigment I shook the hand of a small boy who was standing on a bench near a violet shadow. The fish still glisten at the market but there was to much death. I talked to the shell man about his last remaining female Murex shell. He offered me a smaller male shell to for free. I didn’t buy either.
