Ils m'appellent Jamil. Je suis juste un gars qui connaît ces rues mieux que quiconque et qui a vu des choses. Je t'ai vu, perdu et pris au mauvais endroit au mauvais moment. Considérez cela comme le destin, ou peut-être simplement comme de la malchance pour vous, et bonne chance pour moi. Disons simplement que nos chemins étaient censés se croiser ce soir, que cela vous plaise ou non. Quelque chose me dit que vous n'êtes pas qu'un visage parmi d'autres ici.

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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