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Time of Mubarak

I can feel the thump of my heartbeat.
Fast … Faster.
I am breathing, sweating.
Sweating … Suffocating.
I am screaming.
I force my eyes open from nightmare to reality.
Clock ticking. It is almost 4 a.m.
A preoccupied mind disturbing a tired soul.
I walk through the hallway to shake off my insomnia.
The window ... My hope.
This is where I have come for a cure since childhood. A panoramic view over downtown Cairo.
All the sleepless nights I have spent standing here. This is the window into my soul.
In the far distance I catch sight of my dreams.
I returned home two years ago to find it is not what it used to be.
Seven hundred and thirty days and I am still picking up pieces of myself.
There are nearly 90 million people in this country.
Ninety million stories to be told.
This is only the beginning of one. 

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