After iftar the medina comes back to life. The streets fill again. The sweet stalls appear — tables piled with chebakia and briwat and sellou and things that only exist during this month.

The energy is different from any other night. There's a generosity in the air — plates of food passed between houses, the neighbours sending over things without being asked.

The mosques are full. The sound of prayer carries through the open windows and mixes with the street noise and the television sets and the children still running in the alleys at midnight.

The city doesn't sleep during Ramadan. It just shifts its schedule.