He recognized something familiar in the man’s features, as if he were a native of his own alley. He liked the protruding bones of his face, its dark and taut skin and the white, disheveled hair of his head. He liked even more the kind and friendly look in his eyes which strove in vain to reflect an air of authority. The man smiled, revealing his ugliest feature: black teeth with wide gaps in between them.

“Welcome to the Archives Section! Sit down!” he said, and started to shuffle through the documents of his appointment.

“Welcome! Welcome! Life,” he went on to say, “can be summed up in two words: hello and goodbye.” Yet it was infinite, Othman thought. There blew around him a strange mysterious wind, full of all kinds of probabilities.

It was infinite, he thought again, and because of that it demanded infinite willpower.

The Head of Section pointed to a vacant, neutral-colored desk whose leather top was worn-out and spotted with faded stains of ink.

“Your desk,” he said. “Examine the chair carefully. The tiniest nail can rip a new suit.”

“My suit is very old anyway,” replied Othman.

“And remember,” the man carried on with his warning, “to recite a prayer before opening a filing cabinet. On the eve of last Bairam festival a snake, at least three feet long, came out of one of the cabinets.” He choked with laughter and continued, “But it wasn’t a poisonous one.”

“How can one tell whether it is poisonous or not?” asked Othman anxiously.

“You ask the section messenger. He comes from Abu Rawwash, the city of snakes.”