Although somewhat prepared for the moment, it was a shock stepping out of the Sadat metro station in downtown Cairo. Despite scattered groups of chanting protesters and hundreds of street vendors making the most of the crowds, Tahrir was strangely silent, blocked off from all but pedestrian traffic and guarded by an unarmed militia of sorts. I circled the island of makeshift tents and passed the campgrounds at the foot of the defunct mogamma before winding to my long-time home, Dahab Hostel. But not before some fuul and ta3mia from Felfela. It's good to be back. 



From a stop in the colored room of the Aarhus Art Museum.