In Cairo, I am never alone. It may be just that fact that is at the core of my mad love for her. In Cairo, I never have to be alone with my thoughts unless I want to be. I never have to face myself when I am exhausted or scared to. In Cairo, there is always someone or something to lend me a smile or a laugh. In Cairo, there is always something that will distract me on the street, or something happening that will keep me busy on the news. In Cairo, there is always someone else, a stranger, that I can direct my anger and bitterness towards, away from my life and myself. In Cairo, there is always something to wake me up from the most telling dream or the most disturbing nightmare. In Cairo, I can surround myself with a sea of people that I never have to encounter again, I can be whoever I feel like being every different minute. In Cairo, I can be too busy to notice my problems. In Cairo, I am happy because I live the most natural form of denial. Cairo is at the core of who I am today, of who I have become. It is the perfect representation of the madness within me, the contradictions, and the embracing of these contradictions. It is also my drug, the way through which I can ignore all that worries and scares me. The clutter of Cairo gives me something to sort through.
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