The Wistful Show
Chapter One In the soot-choked air of Cairo, where the bells of the minarets and the church rang in discordant unison, the world did not care for the small sorrows of men. Ibrahim Amin, a constable of thirty-two years with a weary, light-hearted demeanor that masked a deep, rotting guilt, stood in the reclamation yard of dead machines, his hand resting on the brass surveyor’s compass he carried...
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