Zayd stood at the base of the Dubai Frame, eyes wide with wonder at the giant golden
picture frame bridging old and new city. The elevator carried him up, and as he stepped onto the top, he took in the view.
On one side, traditional houses, wind towers, and the winding lanes of old Dubai; on the other,
glittering skyscrapers reaching for the sky. Zayd squinted. “It’s like looking at the past and the future at the same time,” he said softly.
His father placed a hand on his shoulder. “Even today, when I cross the roads below, I notice this.
One side reminds me of the Dubai I grew up in, the other of what the city is becoming. The Frame holds them together,
past and present, like the city itself walking ahead.”
Zayd nodded, imagining generations passing, stories flowing through lanes and towers alike.
And perhaps, he thought, only when the Frame was built did people truly believe that two Dubais exist,
one that remembers, and one that dreams.
