I found myself walking in a cold sandstorm during the month of April. I was lost in thought, paying little attention to my surroundings.
So it was that an old woman’s face appeared, wailing in my direction. She instructed me through tearful spasms to pay strong heed to buried consciousness.
At the same moment, several children scrambled out from inside a dry fountain shown in a digital press photo of unknown origin.
The old woman’s face rotated ninety degrees sideways, slipping into the maternal caress of two large hands.
I found myself walking amid an excavation site on the outskirts of Cairo.