It had taken a while to communicate my destination. I was trying to get to the Northern Cemetary to check out where squatters have created a whole town within the tombs. I started the game of charades by trying to act out death. Laying down in the taxi cab seat, I closed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. Soon enough we were on our way.
We finally got to the cemetary. Only 86 honks. I hung my head low, kicking myself for not knowing the Arabic phrase for "keep circling the block please".

I didn't know whether to focus on counting his honks or his burps from chugging the can of soda. Sensory overload.
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