I’m in the court yard and my mother is lying next to me. I’m on my back looking up at the sky. My first hundred feet of vision is confined by the cement walls of the house but after the third floor the sky bursts into an endless mass of stars and blackness. At that very moment I develop a new understanding of darkness. We’ve eaten beyond satisfaction and with full bellies, hands still covered in the crumbs of baguettes, a lingering taste of tea and sugar on our lips, we can’t really move. Nor do we really want to. We lay there in silence, comfortable enough with each other to simply be together without the superfluous banter of two unfamiliar people that I’ve become so accustomed to. Our minds are in other places yet we’re there together. Despite a sore body and an exhausted mind which are trying to function on four hours of sleep, I feel rested.

Fifteen minutes later I’m on the roof by myself. On my way up I passed my sister praying and tripped over a rug, shattering the silence. I am still, and always will be, very much a foreigner. Yet I can’t deny the overwhelming feeling of belonging. On the roof I sit in a straight backed wooden chair and watch. It starts with one body, two houses away, making its way to the mosque. Gradually, many people emerge and make the short walk across the street. In the darkness of the early morning, the white robes of the men and women are eerily reminiscent of ghosts. They walk with an elegance that makes it appear as if they’re floating. I’ve overcome with a feeling of guilt, as if I’m watching something that I shouldn’t be watching, that I’m not ready for. I lower my head such that only my eyes eclipse the plane of the balcony and continue to watch. Eventually the bodies disappear and the darkness returns. A complete silence falls over the neighborhood. For a second I watch the sky, now turning from black to blue, but am interrupted by the call to prayer. Everyone on the mosque begins to pray in unison. The sing song words are guttural yet at this moment beautiful. I have no desire to be inside the mosque with them. I’ve found my place on the roof. Watching, listening, learning.