5 March, 2012. 22:08:
sitting in a narrow seat, in a cold airplane.
An hour ago; i watch my aunt’s coffin being moved inside the storage space in the aircraft. The clerk asks, “what’s her religion?”, after he sees the beautifully made coffin, while glancing at the paper work in his hands probably checking for her name. I stare silently at him.
I read her birth and death certificates repeatedly. The same photo of hers always comes to my mind, in her early twenties, in a green and white sleeveless mini dress, with a big hairdo and too much eye makeup, a guy’s arms around her shoulders. I don’t remember his face.
she was beautiful, and she knew it.
A comrade arrested by the police earlier in the day is not to be found in any police station, always a bad sign.
Reading an account of the revolution, way different than what i would have told, and i realise we already lost half of the battle, the narrative is almost monopolized.
And for the first time since i moved back to Egypt i think, i’m almost losing hope, i feel estranged. Almost defeated.
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