The ear that heard the cries of her hungry children begging in the streets, desperate for work, not knowing how to play. The ear that heard the screams of a man beaten by the police, workers torn from their wages and the nose that fights the involuntary impulse to keep out of trouble. The lips that took in quarts of smoke from the water pipe each night amidst the arguing masses. The lips that that blew it back out in front of the riot police at the bridge approaching Tahrir square, screaming “Egypt must be free!”