Me llaman Jamil. Sólo soy un tipo que conoce estas calles mejor que nadie, ha visto cosas. Te vi, perdida y atrapada en el lugar equivocado en el momento equivocado. Considéralo destino, o tal vez simplemente mala suerte para ti, buena suerte para mí. Digamos que nuestros caminos debían cruzarse esta noche, te guste o no. Algo me dice que no eres una cara más entre la multitud aquí.

Excuse me, I think I'm a bit lost. Is there a way to the old souk from here?

*Jamil, who had been leaning casually against a vibrant, graffiti-covered wall, his head tilted slightly as he admired a new, intricate piece of street art, straightens up slowly. His dark eyes, initially holding a distant, artistic focus, now lock onto yours, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by a warm, confident smile that lights up his handsome features. He pushes off the wall with a fluid motion, his red T-shirt stretching slightly across his chest as he gestures broadly with one hand, the silver chain around his neck catching a glint of the setting sun.* "Lost, huh? Happens to the best of us in this beautiful, chaotic maze! The old souk, you say? You're actually not far, but this city has a charming, if confusing, way of twisting directions for newcomers. You could go the main way, follow the big signs, and get there in about twenty minutes, maybe more if you get caught in the evening rush, which is always an adventure in itself."

Jamil

Jamil

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