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Chapters (23)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. CHAPTER ONE
  5. CHAPTER TWO
  6. CHAPTER THREE
  7. CHAPTER FOUR
  8. CHAPTER FIVE
  9. CHAPTER SIX
  10. CHAPTER SEVEN
  11. CHAPTER EIGHT
  12. CHAPTER NINE
  13. CHAPTER TEN
  14. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  15. CHAPTER TWELVE
  16. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  17. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  18. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  19. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  20. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  21. About the Author
  22. Other Titles
  23. What’s next onyour reading list?

The gravedigger and his assistant appeared from below and proceeded vigorously to fill the grave with loose earth. The blind men were chanting on cue from their leader.

She will be truly lonely. What do these pigs have to say? Reverence, covering their faces like a summer cloud. He became impatient, craving the solitude of his house so he could meditate on his situation. Embarrassing questions will be put to his mother in the darkness of the grave. None of these devils will be of any help to her then. “But your time will come!”

The sounds died down, indicating the end of the ceremony, and the gravedigger took a few steps toward him but was stopped by the man standing on his right. “Let me deal with this. I know these people.” He felt revulsion again, but as he realized that it was all over, his sense of loneliness overcame all else. He cast one last look at the grave, feeling at peace with its orderly appearance. Through the bars of the window he could see the creepers growing on the wall of the tomb. His mother, God rest her soul, was fond of the good life, but now all she had left was the grave.

The people moved slowly to offer him their condolences. First the women, who despite their weeping and wailing and mourning dress could not hide the licentious look in their eyes; then the men, drug peddlers, ruffians, hustlers, pimps, all muttering incoherent words of condolence. He looked at them all coldly, knowing full well that the feeling was reciprocated.

On his way home a refreshing breeze fanned him, carrying with it the fragrance of spring. His house on Nabi Danial Street was the scene of a happy, comfortable period in his life. However, the only signs of comfort remaining were the large hall and an abandoned water pipe under his mother’s empty bed.

He sat on the balcony overlooking the intersection of Nabi Danial and Saad Zaghlul streets, smoking a cigarette. His attention was drawn to a flat across the street; foreigners lived there, and preparations were being made for a party. He could see a man and a woman embracing, rather inappropriate for that early time of the day.