It’s unimaginable that in such a rugged, imposing and gregarious environment there could be anything living. Mecca has this very in-your-face-personality. A relentless sun bears over mountains, dust and sand. Barren is a generous word.  But there are birds. Always. They flutter over the Ka’aba endlessly throughout the day and the night. Perched sometimes on its edges, they stand forth and move about. Small, insignificant amongst the throngs of worshippers and pilgrims whose faces are weary and anxious, desperate to catch a glimpse of the Ka’aba and to embrace it’s black façade.