My boyfriend and I met at the Folk Festival. I guess the location was actually one of the best and selectively few places to meet new and different kinds of people. Rakan is an Arab, beautiful and dark-eyed and still of the Old World impression that treating a female like a princess is a mandatory action. This was a carnival atmosphere: everybody sharing with each other a new sense of amazement and awareness of happenings beyond their more isolated lives. In all the friendliness and exchange, I guess it was kind of inevitable that I wouldn’t be so on guard when Rakan approached me and introduced himself. I couldn’t even tell you now which band was playing or which vendor we were standing in front of as he took my hand and kissed it in greeting. Few memories seem to last – so I’m told – like the memories of childhood sweethearts and young loves. I know Rakan will remain in my memories until my last breath is taken.