Islamic museum. Parking garage. Customized. Inside a building and a mall. Not by any means close in shape or essence to the capital of cairo, city stars. Nor the empire states of the nile, nile city. Just an easy miss parking. In fact, an apartment building changed to be a parking. I am not sure where we parked. Living room or bedroom. Wish I knew.
We went to take the elevator. A typical middle class man. Not sure middle or lower middle class. Just a real man from this old time. He was not old. Late 40's maybe. He entered with us and the whole elvator smelled. I inhaled the aroma and I smiled.
There was this deep armoa of 'leb'. Seeds. He was 'az'az' leb probably on his way to the elevator and he simply filled the whole elevator with that smells.
This smell took me back decades. To the slightly disappearing 'tasaly' shops. This little but famous shop next to the church in heliopolis. Overlooking the metro. The small bazar that sold leather sandals that I so liked. Reminded me of the eurpoean missionaries. Of Soeur Germain and Ann Marie. Of my half swedish friend, Rony Sidky. To the enjoyable trips with my mom, brother when we were visiting in heliopolis. To 13 makabati. The red church. Truimph. Saphire. This back street linking saphire to saint fatima. To the small island that separated the empty street to two lanes. The island where my cousins waited for the bus. 3am nour. The toufi bonbon with a ballerina on its paper. The black and brown shoes of my father's moukasan shoes. How I tried to make a cadence while going up the stairs. Oxford book store. Groppi. To my sleep over at my uncle's house. The 'Basta' infront of the very old apartment that once belonged to my grandmother. Josline and Mireille. Tante Durreya and Soheir.