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Mohammed Massoud Morsi

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I Am Ibrahim

A Meeting From A Journey

I Am Ibrahim

I would like you to buy my post cards. They are beautiful.

I would call them simple. But I liked them. I liked Ibrahim even more. His big round, almost comical glasses. His kind smile and humble energy. His gentle facial features and deep soft voice. Ibrahim waited patiently until I had looked through his cards. I looked at them, they were simple, touristy, nothing fancy. I bought six and patted him on his head. I don’t know why, I don’t normally pat a man on his head, but I felt at one with this man, he could be family I felt. He was sweaty under his head band, it was hot and I had seen him walking around for a while. He looked up at me and smiled. I asked if I could take his picture and he was honoured.

We parted with a large hug and a handshake with all of our hands.

This entry was posted in Writing.