I wrote this before I left Cairo, but didn’t post it until now. Something about it just doesn’t seem right, but I figure if I don’t post it now, it will never happen. Here it is, an overly poetic attempt.

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December 21, 2007
Since I arrived I have been trying to somehow capture the essence of the city so that those reading my posts, viewing my photos or watching my videos could somehow get a feel for what it is like here. Nonetheless, I feel this is simply not possible.

Just a few days ago after an early morning trip downtown I found myself walking back to my flat via the 26th of July bridge. So many times since I arrived in Cairo I have looked upon the Nile, and each time I find myself struggling to make sense of it, as if it is far to powerful to be simplified into one individual moment. As I sullyed over the river’s currents one final time, I struggled to take it all in. The white public bus covered in black soot as if it hadn't been cleaned in 10 years. Perhaps it was cleaned the same morning, impossible to know. The man riding his bike balancing a palette of bread on his head. Men in suits making their morning commute. Over the edge, men holding out for something to bite their lines, perhaps for dinner or only to pass the time. What of them, are they in awe each and every morning? Do they too take a deep breath each time they look out over this river and see this place, an endless life stirring.

Beyond this abundance that flows through it, the city passes on infinitely. Everywhere, it’s all too much. There is no place to be simplified or explained in a single thought.

With so much to see, hear and think, it’s difficult to put it all in perspective. My time here was only a speck of dust blown in from the West, a meaningless presence in the divine history of this land. For all my moments, of that which I am most grateful is but my privilege to witness it as it is.