mirbat

What little town by river or sea shore,/ Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,/ Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?/ And, little town, thy streets for evermore/ Will silent be; and not a soul to tell/ Why thou art desolate, can e'er return
John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn

Hinting at Yemeni influences from across the border, the ruins of Mirbat rise out of its old quarter, rubbing shoulders with new houses, and a lone figure on his way to Friday prayers

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