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Leaning against the woodwork, her fingers curving through the tiny openings, she stared toward the west. The sky was flushing. Broken by the circles, the squares, the minute interstices of the mashrubiyeh, she saw the city taking on the hues of sunset. Suddenly the cry of a muezzin from a nearby minaret came rising and falling through the streets. "La illahé illallah Mohammedun Ressoulallah "
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