A single white boat silently crosses the perfectly clear night sky. There are no sails, and no one takes the oars. Yet the boat leaves a steady wake, as if guided by the moon itself.

Far below lies the Nile, shimmering silver as it drinks in the moonlight. Only the banks, threading through the dark earth, are vibrant green, with narrow stretches of wheat fields, date palms, and reed-filled marshes. Beyond that, the endless desert spreads out in silence.

Along the river, sun-dried brick houses stand huddled together. On the flat roofs, people rowing boats and leading livestock pass by as tiny shadows. If you strain your eyes, temples with massive pylons emerge from the night, and the lights of the royal palace, with its gardens and ponds, twinkle like stars. From somewhere, the faint sound of a harp and the laughter of people reach you.

Despite looking down from such a height, the smell of freshly baked bread and the damp night breeze crossing the river feel so close they seem within reach.

A young man stands at the prow of the boat.