January 8th, 1850, 4pm

Wednesday. I walk alone in Cairo, under a beautiful sun, in the neighborhood between Carameidan and the Boulak Gate (at the corner of the Ezbekieh, left when looking North). I get lost in the back alleys and end up in dead-ends. From time to time I stumble on a square, made of rumbles of houses or rather missing houses - chickens pecking - cats on the walls - quiet, hot, withdrawn life - great impression of the sun when one suddenly gets out of those alleys, so narrow the awnings of the mashrabiyas on opposing houses bump into each other.

Paul, David Wade and Cassie said thanks.

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Gustave Flaubert

"Travel makes one modest, you see what a tiny place you occupy in the world." [extracts from Flaubert's travel diary written in 1849-1851]

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