And the same happens with Mahmoud Tawfiq, the well-known poet, and his wife Soheir Youssef Seddiq, and again with Hanan and Gamila... We are part of countless Iftars celebrated in Ramadan. In those rare moments of mystical lucidity, awaiting the madfa', chatting away the evening, my notebook intervenes. If the Iftar happens to be in a popular neighbourhood downtown, I might go out on the balcony to sketch the holy month's myriad intriguing -- and beautiful -- manifestations.

By the evening, if there are still any blank pages in the notebook, I meander off to the neighbourhood of Al-Hussein, wind my way down to that most famous qahwa (traditional coffee shop), Al-Fishawi, and keep drawing. Surely I can stay up late tonight: I will cross over to Wikalat Al-Ghouri to attend the tannoura dance. Here I will listen to an almost miraculously pure nay (reed pipe) accompanied by percussion, and anticipate Suhour, capturing the likeness of a whirling cape of many colours.

By George Bahgory