HAPPINESS MARKET - HOODIE - BLACK
PART 1 - CHAPTER 3
Saïd had told me about this old man as his spiritual father, the one who had taught him everything. The one who, according to legend, had welcomed the first hippies to Ketama, and who taught him in return the secret of making hashish as they did in Afghanistan. Since that blessed day, thousands of Moroccans lived from the culture of cannabis, sweating blood and water in the Riff mountains so that you can smoke you out while surfing on conspiracy sites. It was in a dark alley in Ketama that the 80-year-old man ran a real cannabis grocery store, a drug supermarket, a hashish museum. There was everything, especially the best. But then my dream turns into a nightmare when, after loading the Nissan pickup and hugging me for good luck, the old man has a heart attack and drops dead at my feet. Bad luck for the old man, but I have to think about myself: I end up with a corpse, 500kg of pollen in the trunk and two bags full of cash. I take the cash and the drugs and get the hell out of here.
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