The cab was entering the roundabout, as I pointed at a nearby spot and signalled him to stop there. I clumsily got off the taxi with my camera and bag as he thanked me for the little tip. "Ma'a salama," I bade farewell to him with my broken Arabic as he began to drive away. Those are the last words in our short time together.
Those are probably the last words between us in this life. What's the chance of us meeting again? A traveller from thousands of miles away, and a taxi driver among the thousands of men of the same trade in Amman.