I’m sitting in a hotel lobby with Micah Ruelle, it’s about 5:00 in the morning, and the Egyptian gentleman on staff—Talaat B.—has been telling us about his life. And I sort of want to go home and cry and understand all of these things that I don’t understand. Is this because I’m exhausted, or because this stranger’s story has in some way changed me?
Thanks for everything, Talaat.
