Noor Naga

Dina! Go tell that son of a shoe to sit at the cashier

When I arrived at Ramses Station in

Cairo, the air was people

, I saw children in school uniforms drowning kittens in a barrel of tar.

You could turn into an alley and find fifty Sudanese men, bluer than black, with cheeks like shoulder blades and ankles like knives, or else women as tall as I am, women so pale you could see rivered blood at their wrists and neck.

My first year in Cairo, I still spoke country, referring to myself in the plural. We do, I answered.

sablé and petits fours

Twenty pounds to the dollar. This is the exchange rate today. A year ago, it was eight.

Do you know what people here would give for an American passport? We are all trying to leave and you have the option to be there but instead—why are you here?

The people are warmer here, kinder, more humane