Geneva, that I really loved when I was with Jean, revealed a whole new side of itself: a cold city, colder than usual.Nevertheless, it was a beautiful city, more beautiful than ever,the leaves on the trees red, yellow, green, black, more full ofcolor ... Geneva experiencing a magnificent autumn. Andme, I just had to find myself someplace warm before nightfinally fell. No need to panic, be afraid, tremble, cry, feel sorryfor myself about how things turned out. Now wasn’t the time,no, no ... I had to be strong, STRONG. That’s when Iweighed 121 lbs. I don’t know where my strength came from,how I found it in me. Undoubtedly it was the strength youfind in sadness, the strength that comes with hopelessness:when you have nothing, you have no other choice. I let thatstrength guide me. I listened to it and it told me that all I hadto do that night was just hang in there.

The Swiss Confederation had given me a scholarship. I came to Geneva to spend a year working on my post-graduatedegree in 18th century French literature.

My father had just died.

Early April, 1996.

I met Jean in Morocco, in Rabat, at Mohamed-V University where he had come to participate in a seminar on “The Beautiful Lie.”

The last day, right before the closing address, I innocently said to him: “I’d really like to meet you in the city later, havea drink, talk some more. Did you get to see Rabat a little?” Hegave me a polite no that left the door slightly ajar. Withoutthinking, I stepped right in: “If you want, Sunday, the dayafter tomorrow, I’d be happy to show you around Rabat and,if you’d like it, Salé too ... I’m free all day ...” He liked theidea but only gave me a definite answer later.

As we were leaving the conference room, he came up to me and somewhat timidly said: “I’m not sure I’m free onSunday. Tomorrow I’m going to Fes with some colleagues.We’ll get back to Rabat late that night or else the next day...”I didn’t let him finish his sentence: “Here’s my phone number,call me when you get back, even if it’s very late.” He lookedat me, slightly amazed. I insisted: “Even if it’s very late, trustme ... We’ve got a lot of company right now, relatives fromthe country and they stay up really late with my mother ...so, don’t hesitate to call.”

He took my advice. The next day, around midnight, the phone rang. It was him. He had just gotten back from Fes,which he loved. He was free on Sunday, all day. We decidedto meet in front of his hotel at 10 that morning.