سنين ومرّت زي الثواني

A stranger on the street. A face that stopped me.

I don't know his name, or the weight he carries, or the roads that carved those lines into his skin. But something in his eyes held a whole life, one cast in the early 1960s, shaped by a Cairo I never knew but somehow recognize.

So I painted him. Not to claim his story, but to honor the fact that he has one.

Years passed like seconds. And yet, here he is.