THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT

To wash her legs, Tally stepped closer to the bank. She rose from the creek until the water covered not high but her feet. Slowly, with the soap and cloth she bent and stretched and caressed her legs and buttocks. My heart pounded to the ground. She rinsed by splashing water over her body. And when she was finished, and still standing in ankle-deep water wonderfully naked, Tally turned and stared directly at the spot where I happened to be hiding.

Grisham/House, 2000

One morning I climbed a fig tree, and through its branches I saw Asiya, the daughter of the man who owned the orchard. She was coming along slowly towards the tank. Bad luck, I thought. She’s going to see me up here, and tell that father of hers. He’s like my father; he never smiles. She looked this way and that, stopped walking, and listened to the sounds around her. Then she continued hesitantly, looking in every direction as she went, taking her steps with great care. She untied the sash of her pyjamas and pulled off the jacket like a bird getting ready to fly.

Choukri/Bread, 2006