Memory

Time stands still at the gates of Luxor, Humanity's oldest prayer site, the last stop before eternity. On the banks of the Nile, the overwhelming heat makes me indolent. Crocodiles slide silently on the sand, under the penetrating gaze of sphinxes. I direct my steps towards the millennial shadow of the giant Ramses II. The temple stones seem to vibrate with splendor, and the roses sigh in torpor. Luxor oud: an oasis of roses and fruit, overflowing with freshness and sensuality in the land of greatness and majesty. The marriage of wood and rose under Pharaoh's whip and sceptre.