Through the span of my bachelor studies in Europe, every return to Alexandria feels like a warm embrace, where I effortlessly slip back into my pace. The sea breeze, for which I’ll never find anything comparable. The calls of the street vendors on the corniche. The bustling chaos of the city, which logically should overwhelm me, but never does. The ahwas (cafés) where people laugh their hearts out. People who know how to pronounce my name correctly. Yet, it is very likely this very sense of familiarity that leads me to believe that my city is the most beautiful in the entire world, even though I’m well aware that today’s Alexandria isn’t. It’s rather a place whose nostalgic inhabitants helplessly watch it being torn apart by eager construction companies. Yet, one that holds us so tightly that we cannot seem to find a cure for our nostalgia. Gradually, I’ve become accustomed to seeking comfort in the words “Alexandria used to be more beautiful back then.” Older generations tell us how much the city has changed. Beaches were once accessible to the public, and you could simply sit by the sea…
