If an Egyptian Cannot Speak English

by Noor Naga

He cleared his throat as though fatherhood had just been declared carcinogenic and he wanted nothing to do with it: he was doing a cleanse, he was detoxing, he had given up gluten and dairy and daughters.

QUESTION: How many questions can you ask before you expose who you are?

I’m caught between my desire to understand and my desire to appear as though I already understand.

QUESTION: If a man’s anger is lovelier than his loveliness, what kind of ending do you expect?

I resent him because I recognize him. This desperation to refashion ourselves into the most pleasing form makes fools of us both. We’re pliable and capricious, shed our skin at the slightest threat, and ultimately stick out everywhere we go.

QUESTION: What if female arousal is just the belief that you will not die at this man’s hands?

QUESTION: Can home be passed from one body to the next, like a secret whispered in the ear?

Let me ask you: Is it possible to contemplate a thing—any thing at all—without sadness?

Only now, looking back, do I realize how terrible it is to subsist on just enough, without the joy of beautiful things.