Marrakech's Koutoubia mosque: and an existential tale of waiting for Godot

I am waiting.  Waiting for so many things. 

Including the bus. 

A bus came but it was going the wrong way. 

A bicycle passed me by.  There was no room for me.

 
A taxi honked its horn at me.  But I didn't have enough money.

I heard the gallop of horses, and I was tempted.  But I looked away.

Finally.  Oh finally!  The bus....

Good things come to those who wait.  Or at least that's what I tell myself.  

Tell me, are you waiting, too?