For many reasons the considered to be a base of stock guy couldn't reveal he loved a what we call "a family girl" in our southern village. They were elementary school mates where differences are vague and understandable for small children. There, at the place of her wedding, he danced to a strange magic music mixing eastern Egyptian and western tunes, tears tore him from the inside. She admired his dance and told the man in Black suit to watch this clever dancer, then she altered her looks to guests coming to congratulate her and her bridegroom. Fathy was happy she may see him, may be not for the last time in the video tape of the wedding festival. I knew this story and wept for his destiny as a later addicted to hashish. It was two weeks since I last met him, he appeared to be a smart, decent and quite guy now with many white hairs scattered on his head. Many things changed with the village and were forgotten through my journey to the north, yet I still remember the was junevile guy's dance.
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