Luxor Town – January 2014

We are driven through the dusty town peopled only by men, all the women having been killed, imprisoned, driven away, to the Nile Palace, where all receptionists, cleaners, boutique owners, waiters and cooks are men.  The sense of loneliness, being a woman visitor in a Muslim country.   On the Nile terrace we drink, while the dusty mauve air turns dark Prussian blue.  My ears are deaf from the plane and my tumour, my eyes are sore and ache, I feel I am receding from everything around me as life becomes fainter, less palpable.  I slowly die, disintegrate back into dust.   The Nubian restaurant is...