Valley of the Kings.
As I ventured into the Valley of the Kings I recalled the story of the Pharaohs Curse. People who plundered the tombs would die from a shaving cut. Thieves would have their material lives ripped away from them much like they ripped away the material lives of the kings. I walked with caution, believing it possible to somehow upset the tomb, for a pebble to fall in my shoe, arriving home to shave, the blood to never cease till I’m blue and breathless. Passing the vendors selling statuettes of Anubis and Ra, it was as though I was sinking into Duat. The Underworld in Egyptian mythology where souls went to be judged, Ra acquiescently waiting on his boat for his passenger, whilst the eyes of Anubis judged debating if I was worthy to go into the realm of the dead. I walked over ramps, and through scurrying tourists to finally reach the majestic Valley. A sand storm abruptly began and I was forced to shelter my face from the brilliant winds that picked...