• 5 •
When I sluggishly opened them, my eyes still registered the desert expanse. The seductive fragrance of hope lingered in my mind, but my throat was dry and my body weak. I felt I had either slept a hundred years or not slept at all.
I glanced around and the desert landscape evaporated into a demoralizing and ludicrous scene.
I was in my room, or what remained of it, sprawled on the filthy yellow mat with the dusty camel-hair cushion under my head. My wardrobe stood there before me. I had opened it when I arrived with Mother Juwairia and found traces of my deluxe past – hair creams, body lotions, the hot comb, and the hairbands I used for a finishing touch of elegance. I felt weaker, and without any mental exertion, realized that my escape from the flames with the eunuch Ghazi/Lulu
