by Nariman Youssef
She walks her beloved oppressor of a city, in a long flowing dress, bra-less,
the twilight resting on her shoulder, the breeze drying some droplets of sweat
on the back of her knee…
And it’s like sighing, like sitting back in her body and lightly falling.. into sleep…
She quickens her step.
Comfort.. can only come as a jolting shock, a forewarning..
in these relentless streets.