Words & Photographs by Isis Benchellal
In February, I embarked on a breathtaking journey: a descent along the Nile, from Luxor to Aswan, aboard a sandal, a traditional Egyptian boat. Guided by an Egyptologist and surrounded by a warm crew, I plunged into a fascinating past, carried by the river’s slow rhythm.
This journey felt like a waking dream, a pause outside of time. From mornings when the sun lit up the deck, to cool and silent nights beneath the stars watching over sleeping shores, each moment had its own gentle melody.
There were echoes of the ancient world everywhere: on the water, in cities, on islands, in stone. Pharaohs and gods, builders and scribes seemed to guide each step through an endless stream of stories.
In the Valley of the Kings, the dazzling white of the cliffs made me squint. Their depths harbouring temples and age-old secrets. The walls, covered in hieroglyphs, told what time had not erased.
In Luxor, the Karnak Temple took my breath away. Its towering columns, reaching to the sky, still seemed to carry the prayers of another era.
Among many other wonders encountered along the Nile, Edfu Temple, dedicated to Horus, left a deep impression — its colossal walls made me feel tiny, overwhelmed by the scale and strength of the place. I let myself be carried, drifted, floated through this land so full of richness.
As the days passed, the Nile unveiled landscapes and villages where time had seemingly paused.
A glance upward, and a goat watched me from the roof of a house.
A glance into the distance, and children ran through the palm groves.
The water shimmered near the banks, where fishing boats dried under the scorching afternoon sun.
I lost myself, just for a moment, wandering through the village alleys. The colours of clothes hanging across paths, the bright smiles of the locals, and the textures of daily life caught me off guard — and moved me.
I rediscovered a quiet beauty in places I hadn’t expected to find it. A contrast struck me. The noisy life of the cities, without rules, where horns echo endlessly, and then the silence of the river. A silence that wrapped around us, almost sacred.
The sunset crackled softly, barely audible.
I swayed to the rhythm of the hours, the days, the seconds, carried by this peaceful chaos.
My gaze settled everywhere. I melted into the scenery.
I tried to wrap myself in the fleeting softness of the unknown... which no longer felt quite so unknown.
