Cairo, Egypt

When I returned to the United States this past weekend after spending six weeks in the Middle East, I didn't have all that much in my backpack. One thing I had almost packed but didn't was a chunk of rock. It was one of thousands thrown outside my Cairo hostel, by Tahrir Square, during violent clashes on February 2 and 3. I had seen these rocks knock men unconscious and turn faces into rivulets of blood. I hated them at the time, which is precisely a reason I thought of bringing one home—it would be a reminder of how poorly we sometimes treat one another, and of the birth pangs of freedom in the Middle East.

For better or worse, I left that rock in Cairo, opting to travel light and not have one more weighty thing to store once I was back home. I did, however, bring back a few lighter reminders of events in Egypt.

One was the piece of paper in this photograph. I was sitting on the second floor of a popular cafe called Cilantro at the time, editing photos on my laptop when a waiter set it beside me. He had a stack of them and was setting them on each table in the room. On one side was English and on the other Arabic. They were a sign of the times in Egypt—truly unusual and fast-moving times, in which each day brought some surprise, even in the form of a piece of paper at a café that asked coffee drinkers to suggest ways they could work "hand in hand" to make the country better. And that sure is better than bludgeoning one another with rocks.

I'll be honest: now that I'm home, I think I should have packed that rock too. But I'm glad to at least have this paper, which was so easy to slip between the pages of my journal in Egypt and now so easy to set on the table beside me as I type this post in the States. It helps me still see Egypt, and a smiling waiter setting it beside my coffee.