Stone lanes

The old fabric of a city is a maze that wants you to buy something. You may buy something. That is not the crime. The crime is walking as if every door were a stage.

Follow shade, not shopfronts. When the lane narrows, slow down so you do not treat bodies as obstacles. Greet. Step aside. Let a cart pass as if it were a river.

Spice is a map you can smell with your eyes closed. Follow cumin until the air turns sweet, then stop.

Look up. The lanes are famous for their ground, but the real unnamed city is the strip of sky, the laundry, the wooden mash of a balcony. Do not photograph faces without a conversation that lasted longer than the shutter.

If you get lost, you are doing it correctly. Lost is the last unbranded souvenir.