This was my neighborhood during one summer’s sabbatical by the Mediterranean Sea. In our image you may see streetlamps, heaps of sand, and a wagon whose tailgate seems decorated by children making crayon sketches of melons, bananas, and vegetables too crude and faded to interpret.

Above and to our right, abstract art twenty feet tall adorns a tapestry. The hanging is functional, not installed for its aesthetic goodness except incidentally. It hides a construction disaster of twisted rebar and shattered concrete from public view.

Jarring contrasts show up everywhere in Alexandria, where evidences of the ancient world constantly abut contemporary scenes. Those juxtapositions (and the whirling sensations provoked by them) cannot be avoided.

How long have underfed horses pulled carts in this vicinity?

From the First Dynasty of Egypt at least — five thousand years before the present.

Here we see the perennial animal approaching a modern mini-bus discharging passengers in the distance. The produce wagon is about to pass a fashionable shisha-bar, harshly-lit by many electric bulbs, where patrons — mostly young men — will discuss and dispute family events, religion and politics during animated nighttime hours. The customers fill the air with the warm and guttural sounds of the Arabic language, while inhaling smoke from burning, fruit-flavored tobacco.