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on a square, made of rumbles of houses or rather missing houses - chickens pecking - cats on the walls - quiet, hot, withdrawn life - great impression of the sun when one suddenly gets out of those alleys, so narrow the awnings of the mashrabiyas on opposing houses bump into each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.