A carpet of yellow and white light covers the coastal desert. As the plane descends from its soaring heights, ripping through the clouds unannounced, the incandescent landscape only increases in luminosity- now the carpet becomes a beaming chess board. Streets running perpendicular and parallel, with the occasional roundabouts, invoking a sense of obedience and organization- a logical ordering of life.
As the plane sheds the feet, the memories start flooding in. I can start naming the streets, the McDonalds we used to go to on Wednesdays after school on Heraa St, the beach where we spent our Fridays, and the compound where most of us grew into our adolescence. I peel my eyes away, and sink into the faux-leather seats, readjusting the volume of my i-pod. “Jeddah is beautiful by night,” comes the voice from 4E, “It’s far from the truth of the city,” I respond.
Landing in Jeddah at night is one of those moments in my life where I am entirely captured by the beauty, (I glue my forehead to the window watching in amazement every single time, which makes it a total of over 10 times this year, yet every time feels like my first) yet altogether solemn with it- this Vegas like city sinks like a ton of bricks, “Oh great, back to real life, back to the routine.”
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