And Angels Too Ascend to the Third Floor: Part Three of Meleka's Quartet

Amir Fahim Kyriakos’s return to Alexandria is no arbitrary act; it is the inexorable pull of destiny. The novel’s opening pages depict his journey homeward, away from the exile of New York and back to his origins—the only place where he is granted the vision of his Angel, Rina. A luminous, ethereal being, Rina has always appeared to him in solitude, her presence heralded by a white pigeon. And only in Alexandria can he hope to find her again. Yet, as bewitching as she is, Rina’s beauty is unsettlingly familiar: she is the perfect likeness of Dina, the woman he married after glimpsing her outside his church, drawn to her with the certainty that she was the embodiment of his celestial muse.

From here, the narrator takes us into Amir’s past, to his youth in Alexandria as a lonely Christian boy whose first encounter with death—the loss of his mother—casts him into the shadows of grief. He seeks refuge in the heady embrace of hashish and the solace of painting, discovering a nascent talent for composition. His closest companions, Murad and Mahmoud Taha, become his steadfast confidants, ushering him into a world of art, music, women, and indulgence.

A central motif emerges—the interplay of dualities: the real and the imagined, Rina and Dina, angels and demons, piety and decadence. This theme deepens when Amir encounters his double—a man who mirrors his own face with uncanny precision. Their paths cross first at a bus stop in Alexandria, then in a feverish dream that foreshadows the September 11 attacks, and later still in the bustling avenues of New York, where this enigmatic twin—now a businessman—sets in motion the circumstances that will drive Amir homeward.

A chorus of spectral beings infiltrates his existence, taunting him with scornful whispers, mocking his faith, and cursing his very being. Only Rina offers him solace. To silence these tormentors, he turns ever more desperately to hashish. But when he abstains, they recede—only to return with cruel force in times of stress.

In this new land, Amir flourishes as an artist. His paintings garner admiration, and he is invited to exhibit at a Manhattan festival. He learns to suppress his specters, but he aches for Rina, knowing that without her, his demons grow restless. He keeps his affliction hidden, particularly from Dr. Ramsey, a psychiatrist on the cusp of retirement. In time, the dream returns. He sees his double once more. And when the towers fall on September 11, Amir spirals into a crisis that lands him in a psychiatric ward under Dr. Ramsey’s mandate.

Back in his homeland, Amir drifts away from Dina, immersing himself instead in the remnants of his past. He visits his mother’s grave, seeks out Murad—who, to his dismay, has embraced the tide of religious conservatism that has overtaken Egypt—and learns that Mahmoud Taha has been absorbed into the ruling Democratic Party. He finds himself estranged once more.

In the weeks that follow, Amir yearns for Rina’s return. He calls to her, pleading for her presence, and in his desperation, he fills his parents’ apartment with white pigeons, hoping to lure her back. Then, one morning, Dina rouses him from his trance. The streets are surging with protest. The nation is rising. Together, she and Amir—limping on his crutch—merge into the mass of demonstrators, their voices joining the thunderous cry: “Change… Freedom… Social equality!”

At last, the narrator reveals himself—an old acquaintance, contacted by Dr. Ramsey from the States. The doctor asks him to check on his nephew, Amir, who returned to Alexandria just before the revolution. And so, the narrator arrives at Amir’s doorstep, only to be met by a man standing in his underwear, his apartment strewn with newspapers, the air thick with the flutter of pigeons and the stench of bird droppings. At a nearby café, Amir begins to recount his tale, speaking deep into the night—until the curfew forces them to part.