The Distant Garden
The white town of Tunis wakes not to the sun but to the hum of the call centers, a low electrical thrum that vibrates through the terraced tea hills and settles in the bones of the sleepless, a sound that has replaced the old market cries and the distant toll of the minarets. In the gentrifying ward where the old families are being pushed out by glass-fronted boutiques and predatory franchise...
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