We left very early the morning to walk our way towards the desert. A herd of cows followed us for a while, then they stopped. We were leaving everything behind. One last glance over my shoulder. And that was it. We were on own. And now nothing could stop us.
The entrance of the Fort Palace is still showing some red painted hand prints. It was the last trace a woman would leave behind her before entering the Harem. She would never go out or leave the place for the rest of her life.
I was there looking at the man on the top of the fort, but maybe I am this man looking over the birds. Or maybe I am the birds.