The boy settled in the first shaded spot he could find, his face marked with fatigue. He had spent most of the morning looking for a place in the market, and the evening was fast approaching. He took a small piece of cloth from his bag and spread it out on the ground before him. As he unpacked a few books he had finished reading some time ago, he reflected on how he wished he could learn other languages. If he could, he would exchange his books for ones from other cultures in Egypt. He believed that reading books in their original language brought more emotion, as translations sometimes lost the true essence of the author's message.
He looked at the books now before him, no longer just books—they had become companions on his journey, having traveled with him from Egypt for months, sharing many nights together. But the need to sell them was inevitable in order to buy new ones for the rest of his journey. The little money he had was enough only for food and water, and he had always believed that a book once bought should never be sold again. To buy a new book was to open a window to a world unseen, and to sell it seemed a betrayal of the knowledge and stories it contained.
Most of the books with him were about travel. One of them told the story of explorers who discovered an island with enormous heads rising from the ground, seemingly planted in the earth. Not all of it was true, but the boy thought that a little imagination was acceptable. Sometimes reality was no more than fantasy, and fantasy could turn into the reality that shaped the happiest moments of life.
As he arranged his books, he looked around. The high walls of the temple brought a sense of peace, while the market bustled with activity. Sellers' voices filled the air, and the marketplace was crowded with people inspecting the goods that had been brought in by the caravans. The temple residents bought goods from Egypt and sold their own, like cloth and textiles, to the merchants who would take them on to the next destination.
After hours of commotion, the market grew quiet. The vendors sought shelter for the night, some pitching tents, others heading to the mosque or temple to sleep. The boy exchanged one book and sold another, content for the moment. "There's still plenty of time before the caravan leaves again. I might exchange the rest of my books before then," he thought to himself.
He packed his belongings into his bag and was about to leave when his attention was caught by a girl nearby. She was kneeling by a small box meant for collecting letters, and within moments, she had opened it and placed a letter inside. She gazed at the box for a moment as if saying goodbye to her letter. Then, noticing the boy staring at her, she quickly returned to her posture, as if embarrassed. Her face turned slightly red, and after one last glance at the box, she left in a hurry.
The boy returned his focus to his books, gathered them up, and placed his new book at the front of his bag. "I'll read part of it this evening," he muttered to himself before heading towards the mosque where he would sleep for the night. He didn't realize that he had just met a girl who would one day bring him back from across the seas.