(no subject)
i am in the last half hour of my twenty-first year, sitting cross-legged in my boxers on my bed in my apartment in cairo. the flame is way too big on the 1 pound lighter that i just used to light my cigarette (kent 9). i turned 20 in this city too. two years ago on an island in the middle of the nile surrounded by people i'd barely met. on my 19th birthday i called my mother bawling and i didn't know why. i still don't. orientalism is grinning at me from my bedside table and i've got fifteen more minutes.