It all began in the streets of Marrakesh in the Jewish sector many, many generations ago. She had the beauty of a Berber Arab and Jewish in her blood. She was born small, but with incredible feminine assets. Her large braziers could not contain her flourishing bosoms. Her hair was long, black, and silky. Above her penetrating and almond-like eyes one could detect the bluish decorative lines. She always wore a Star of David, which often was buried in the depth of her warm and smooth, brown chest. Only on Jewish holidays would she wear her white blouses and white skirts. White was supposed to represent a life of purity and virginity in the dark streets of the Moroccan scene. She was thirteen, her period had already occurred several times. Her mother taught her all that she needs to know about this life’s bloody cycle. Rags were placed after the blood on her private part, and she was told that she is a woman now. She continued to like games with her girlfriends in school. Her idea about being a woman was a combination of a sharp smell, flowing liquids, fear and anxiety. Her head was always covered when she was outside her house. She automatically collected her shining attractive hair into her head cover. In her place she was told that a woman’s hair was the finest attraction when a man sees the female genders of the world
