Nile Crocodile

The waves of the Nile pulsing like memory through the synapses. These are the same passages where the merchants of ancient Egypt brought the limestone and granite boulders that built the pyramids and temples to appease their pharaohs and queens. These are the same waters that have been the life blood of the people for thick centuries dripping wet with history. These are the same tired banks that have witnessed the insignificance of human endeavour. These are the same satisfied trees that have drunk out of the life blood and are strong and tall. The trees dancing with the Mediterranean breeze and whispering secrets of the ancient. These are the same bored mountains choking with sand and baked with sunlight, looking down thirstily at the blue waters.

During the days as the ship lazily swims through the coolness of the Nile, a school of a hundred thousand fish of pure sunlight break and shimmer through the surface. During the evenings, the sun burns the blue sky black and leaves behind the constellated embers of stars. At night the reflection of the moon surfs along the wavy surface of the Nile, keeping up with our pace. Egyptian night skies become a range of shooting stars. In the backdrop, the steady hum of the engines provides the bass and the swish swosh of the waves play the treble for the Nile’s night song. Indeed, a scribe does not have to look far to find inspiration in Egypt.