What remains are the traces of gestures, the curtains drifting in the dining room. The scent of Turkish coffee at dawn, the last cigarettes, Azza’s prayers, and the heavy plates of molokhia still linger. It is the last Eid al-Fitr that the Mekkaoui family will celebrate together, before their family structure changes, scat- tering across other geographies, carried by different journeys.

Today is the last dance, the final procession from house to house to greet the women who stayed behind to welcome the men and children. Radès—a seaside town on the outskirts of Tunis—has grown quiet: its laughter has faded, its pop-up photo studios have closed.

Soon, the daughters will leave. And soon, all that will remain is the foam of the sea and the scent of the orange tree in the backyard.