Chapter Eight
I started coming to Sana’a during every holiday. I visited at other times as well, for educational and cultural functions organised in coordination with Yemeni universities and cultural bodies.
Four years went by from the first time I saw Ama al-Rahman at my sister’s flat to the point when I found my own flat in a family housing complex, which I had finally chosen after much effort. It wasn’t far from the city centre, and wasn’t so crowded as to rule out the possibility of regular intimate encounters.
I won’t trouble you, dear Snatcher of Souls, with the meandering details of my relationship with Ama al-Rahman in the intervening years. I don’t have questions for you, but I’d like to say a few things—
‘Later, maybe later,’ my friend interjects. He always prefers me to cut
