Jehlan chanted the phrases to himself softly, hands clasping his book. He had committed himself to performing tonight, and so it was his responsibility to lead the others.
The amphitheater rose around him like a series of waves surrounding him, enclosing, crushing…
Jehlan began to speak. He clutched the book to his chest. He had committed the words to memory. He would not slip. To lose the thread while singing the lamentation was to commit the greatest blasphemy.
He sang of the city’s history, with his fellow citizens, to let the reconstruction begin.