Edfu and Aswan

The temple of Edfu is a story book of graphic history. Every surface of the walls, pillars and bases are covered by hieroglyphics. There is no room for the walls to even breathe. A tattooed temple telling the travellers to take the time to think twice. The dedication it must have taken for the ancients to inscribe every block, their need to preserve their culture through words, astounding. Two thousand two hundred years ago they stood in the very footprints I’m creating and marvelled at their collective efforts and wit. Edfu is a carved mountain of writing talking about ancient gods and of kings and queens and of great battles between different lands. A tabulated time capsule screaming into the future.

The city of Aswan is a city of two halves divided by the charming Nile. One side shows off a busy city life with warm orange lights incubating its streets and soft Arabic music floating out from small shop radios. Old Peugeots line up a dime a dozen, horses clip and clop their ways down the tarmac streets dragging in their carriages bedazzled tourists. All this happens while the stars wink down and the Nile gently smiles out a curve around a lone hill. On the other bank is that hill, semi arid and alone. Only a few lights burn there and the top seamlessly blends into the night sky like a masterpiece of a renaissance period painter.