Giza.
I am sitting on the bus. The roads here, aren't paved, it's been a harsh and enduring ride, my head, resting against sweat stained windows, my eyes closed, though I'm not asleep. I am partaking in this moment, this dream. A day I have dreamed of since I was eight years old. And since, this is all I've ever really wanted. No luxurious cars, dazzling diamond rings, or white picket fences. I hear faint voices of fellow passengers, talking amongst themselves, tourists mostly, excited an anticipating our destination. As I am. And suddenly the bus jolts to a stop, I open my eyes as we pull in through wooden gates, where guards have let us pass. We're finally here. My heart races,though I hesitate in getting up, this all seems so terribly unreal, and if it is I hope to never wake. Two women push their way out the door, and I follow, still hesitant. One foot in front of the other I think, steppin...