The narrow, twisting, cobbled streets looked ominous, each of them, and the small, yellow lamps on the outsides of the houses added an eerie, shadowy glow to the place. The cry of the muezzin had given way to the soft, sensuous sournds of reed instruments, and, here and there, a prostitute's voice raised in a strange sing-song cry, not quite a call and not quite a song.
1969.