Mon jardin When I think of the most beautiful place I have ever lived in, hands down, it has to be the simple chalet in Montazah by Cleopatra beach. When I lived there -- it no longer exists -- in the summers as a teen in the mid 60s, with my mother and brothers, the palace … Continue reading Mon jardin

False alarms

At the stroke of midnight, there will be 27 days left before I leave America. I will end up in Gouna, in a bubble, far far away. The endless noise about the orange khanzeer will abate, but there will be other sounds to avoid. Here is a poem called Finalities, by Constantine Cavafy. It is … Continue reading False alarms