By Ricardo A. Belgrave
A haze of pollution creates atmospheric pressure in a city of endless,
labyrinthine streets simultaneously gorged with people seemingly lost
in the comfort of urban anonymity. No relief can be found in man-
made tunnels that provide passageways for metallic cylinders
intermittently expelling humans who push and plow their way through
with no intent of rudeness---just urgency, lest they find themselves
wedged between merciless mandibles of steel.
Above ground, voices murmur steadily and are interrupted by the
chorus of taxi horns frequently seeking to transport beings from trade
place to trade place, while whirlwind activity recycles itself until the city
steals a few hours of rest---much needed and much earned.
Friday morning allows for a delayed awakening and a welcomed
reprieve for this the respected holy day. Midday approaches and a
caffeine-addicted urbanism prepares itself for fever-pitched comings
and goings in which, one by one, Cairenes mentally rehearse the
choreography of the cosmopolitan, dance-like shuffle---each keeping
eyes on the lead dancer caught somewhere in the maelstrom.
In a metallic flying machine an audience waits for the curtain of haze to
part and to begin the first section of a three-act drama: “al-Qahirah.”
Pilots conduct with electronic batons signaling the need for seatbelts to
be fastened. Now all seats are occupied and engines produce the
background melody as the descent begins and the curtain of smog
separates.
Cairenes, your places please!
A haze of pollution creates atmospheric pressure in a city of endless,
labyrinthine streets simultaneously gorged with people seemingly lost
in the comfort of urban anonymity. No relief can be found in man-
made tunnels that provide passageways for metallic cylinders
intermittently expelling humans who push and plow their way through
with no intent of rudeness---just urgency, lest they find themselves
wedged between merciless mandibles of steel.
Above ground, voices murmur steadily and are interrupted by the
chorus of taxi horns frequently seeking to transport beings from trade
place to trade place, while whirlwind activity recycles itself until the city
steals a few hours of rest---much needed and much earned.
Friday morning allows for a delayed awakening and a welcomed
reprieve for this the respected holy day. Midday approaches and a
caffeine-addicted urbanism prepares itself for fever-pitched comings
and goings in which, one by one, Cairenes mentally rehearse the
choreography of the cosmopolitan, dance-like shuffle---each keeping
eyes on the lead dancer caught somewhere in the maelstrom.
In a metallic flying machine an audience waits for the curtain of haze to
part and to begin the first section of a three-act drama: “al-Qahirah.”
Pilots conduct with electronic batons signaling the need for seatbelts to
be fastened. Now all seats are occupied and engines produce the
background melody as the descent begins and the curtain of smog
separates.
Cairenes, your places please!
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