Visitors: If Aliens Arrived Today, What Would We Tell Them?

When I wrote "Visitors", I wasn't really writing about aliens.

I was writing about us.

Like millions of people around the world, I have followed the recent Artemis missions with fascination. Humanity is once again preparing to return to the Moon, and the dream of reaching Mars no longer feels like science fiction. New rockets are being built, new missions are being planned and every successful launch reminds us that exploration is part of human nature.

But at the same time, another question kept bothering me.

If intelligent visitors from another galaxy arrived on Earth today, what would they think of us?

Would they be impressed by our technology?

Or would they be shocked by what they found?

While humanity celebrates new achievements in space, wars continue to destroy lives here on Earth. Families are displaced. Children grow up in conflict zones. Entire communities struggle with poverty, hunger and insecurity. The contrast can sometimes feel impossible to ignore.

That thought became the foundation of "Visitors".

The song imagines an extraterrestrial traveler asking a simple question about life on Earth. Instead of describing a peaceful and united civilization, the answer becomes a dark reflection of the world we have created. Through rap verses and an R&B chorus, the song explores greed, inequality, violence and humanity's endless search for power.

The references to space travel are not meant as criticism of science or exploration. Human curiosity has always pushed us forward. The problem is not reaching for the stars. The problem is forgetting the people standing next to us while we do it.

Perhaps the greatest challenge facing humanity is not building a colony on Mars.

Perhaps it is learning how to live together on Earth.

The title "Visitors" reflects that idea. Sometimes it takes an outsider's perspective to see ourselves clearly. By imagining how an alien civilization might judge humanity, the song asks a difficult question:

If visitors arrived tomorrow, would we be proud of what they discovered?

Or would we tell them to keep flying?

Until we can answer that honestly, the message of the song remains the same:

Before we explore other worlds, let's take better care of our own.

🔺Cairo, Giza and the Magic of the Pyramids

Two months ago, before our trip to Cairo, we spent wonderful days cruising along the Nile and later relaxing on the Red Sea in Hurghada. Like many visitors, we were offered a variety of optional excursions by local tour operators. One of the most popular choices was, of course, a day trip to Cairo.

Many people from our cruise group decided to book it. Some flew there, others travelled by bus. We considered joining them, but in the end we listened to our hearts and I am very glad that we did.

One of the reasons we skipped the day trip was that there was one very special place we wanted to visit, and with the tight schedule of an organised tour it simply would not have been possible. Instead, we stayed in Hurghada and enjoyed the sunshine, relaxed by the pool, and waited until we could experience Cairo properly later.

The typical day excursion includes a visit to the old Egyptian Museum, the new Grand Egyptian Museum, the famous bazaar, and of course the highlight for most visitors: the Pyramids of Giza.

When our fellow travellers returned, they all shared a similar impression. They had enjoyed the experience, but many felt rushed. There was very little time for the museums, very little time for the pyramids, and most of the day was spent moving from one location to another.

Honestly, it is not surprising.

Cairo is one of the largest cities in the world. Millions of people live and work there every day. Crossing the Nile, navigating the traffic, and travelling between the city's major attractions takes time. In many cases, visitors spend more time getting from place to place than actually enjoying the places they came to see.

That is why my recommendation to anyone planning a visit to Cairo is simple:

Do not book a day trip if you can avoid it.

If possible, spend at least three days in Cairo and Giza. Even better, stay four nights. Yes, it costs more, but it is worth every penny.

Because there is something that no documentary, no television program, and no travel video ever managed to prepare me for.

The energy.

The pyramids have an atmosphere that is impossible to describe until you stand in front of them yourself.

For me, it was one of the most peaceful places I have ever visited.

I expected crowds. I expected noise. I expected chaos.

Instead, I found a place that felt strangely calm.

A place where time seemed to slow down.

A place where I could have stayed for days.

The photographs are impressive. The documentaries are fascinating. But neither comes close to experiencing the site in person. Standing there, surrounded by monuments that have watched over humanity for thousands of years, creates a feeling that words can barely capture.

Another thing that impressed me was the organisation.

Despite the enormous number of visitors, everything works remarkably well. The buses, ticketing systems, guides, horse rides, camel rides, visitor routes, and security arrangements are all carefully managed.

Over the years we have travelled extensively across Europe, North America, the United Kingdom, the Middle East and beyond. Yet no place has impressed me as much as Egypt when it comes to hospitality and handling large numbers of tourists.

The country welcomes millions of visitors while preserving some of the most important historical treasures on Earth.

Egypt truly is a destination everyone should experience at least once.

And there is one more thing I took away from this journey.

For years I watched documentaries claiming that aliens must have built the pyramids because ancient humans could never have achieved such an extraordinary feat.

After visiting Giza, I found those theories less convincing than ever.

At the site, visitors can see evidence of planning, engineering, and construction techniques, as well as the incredible human effort that went into creating these monuments. What impressed me most was not the idea of some mysterious outside force - it was the realisation of what human beings were capable of accomplishing thousands of years ago.

Rather than searching for fantastic explanations, I left Egypt with a deeper respect for the people who built this remarkable civilisation.

Their achievement is extraordinary enough without adding myths.

The pyramids are not a mystery because they were built by aliens.

They are a wonder because they were built by humans.

Thousands of years later, they still stand.

And long after all of today's theories, arguments, and internet debates have disappeared, they will probably still be standing there - watching the world go by.

As expected, this unforgettable journey became the inspiration for my third Egyptian-themed album.

The album is titled 0020CAI. The number 0020 refers to Egypt's international country code, while CAI stands for Cairo - the city that left such a lasting impression on me.

From the peaceful atmosphere of the pyramids to the magic of the Nile, from hidden stories of ancient Egypt to moments of love, friendship, and wonder, this journey gave birth to 12 beautiful songs, each inspired by a different memory from our travels.

I hope you enjoy every single one of them as much as I enjoyed creating them.

Thank you, Egypt, for the memories, the inspiration, and the music.

💛NOUR: How a Stranger in Cairo Inspired a Song by Lily Amis

The true story behind NOUR, a song inspired by an unexpected act of kindness from a young man from Alexandria during a journey through Cairo, Egypt. ✨

The Story Behind the Song: NOUR

Sometimes the songs that mean the most begin with the smallest moments.

During my journey through Cairo, I spent time at the hotel coffee shop where a young man named Nour worked. Nour was originally from Alexandria and, like many people I met in Egypt, he carried a warmth and kindness that made strangers feel welcome.

One day he surprised us with free ice cream. In return, I gave him a small USB stick containing some of my music. It was a simple exchange. Nothing extraordinary. Just two people sharing a little kindness.

When it was time to leave, Nour handed us two bracelets as a goodbye gift.

I was genuinely touched.

Not because of the bracelets themselves, but because there was no reason for him to do it. There was no hidden agenda, no expectation of anything in return, no benefit for him. It was simply an act of generosity from one human being to another.

In a world where we often hear stories about division, conflict and disappointment, moments like these matter.

The bracelets became a symbol of something much bigger: the reminder that kindness still exists.

Long after souvenirs are packed away and photographs are stored on hard drives, certain moments stay with us. Sometimes a person you only know briefly leaves a lasting impression. Sometimes a stranger restores a little faith in humanity.

That is what inspired NOUR.

The title carries a special meaning because "Nour" means "light." It is both the name of the person who inspired the song and a reflection of what he brought into that moment: light, warmth and kindness.

The song is not really about bracelets.

It is about how one small act can travel much farther than we imagine.

It is about friendship without expectations.

It is about gratitude.

It is about remembering that humanity is still alive in the everyday gestures we often overlook.

This song is my way of saying thank you.

Thank you, Nour.

Shukran ya Nour.

🐾❤️Cairo's Invisible Residents: The Street Dogs Nobody Talks About!

When people think of Cairo, they think of the pyramids, the Nile, the bustling streets and endless traffic.

What they rarely think about are the dogs.

Yet during my visit to Cairo, I kept seeing them everywhere.

Not running through the streets. Not begging for attention. Most of the time they were simply sleeping.

On pavements. In parks. Under trees. In the shade of buildings.

At first glance, nothing seemed unusual. Cairo is one of the largest cities in the world. In a city of this size, seeing free-roaming dogs is hardly surprising.

But after a while, I realised something.

The dogs were everywhere, yet almost nobody seemed to notice them.

People walked past them. Tourists took photos of monuments. Life continued around them as if they were part of the landscape.

Perhaps they are.

For many Cairenes, street dogs have always been there. They are part of the city's daily rhythm, sharing public spaces with millions of people.

Looking at the dogs resting on the ground, I couldn't help wondering what their lives looked like beyond these quiet moments.

Where would they find food later that day?

Who would help them if they became sick or injured?

Would anyone even know their names?

The dogs in my photographs do not show dramatic suffering. They are not shocking images.

In a way, that is exactly the point.

Animal welfare is not only about emergencies. It is also about the countless animals living ordinary lives on the margins of society, surviving one day at a time.

Cairo reminded me that street dogs are not an exception. They are part of a much larger reality that exists throughout Egypt.

Whether in Cairo, Hurghada or countless smaller communities, thousands of dogs depend on the kindness of individuals who choose not to look away.

Most people will never notice them.

I did.

And once you notice them, it becomes difficult to forget them.

🗝️The Story behind the Song BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR!

Some songs are written from imagination.

Others arrive from moments that quietly change you forever.

“Behind the Green Door in Cairo” was born from one of those moments.

For decades, we carried a dream in our heart: to travel to Cairo and visit the resting place of King Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. Not out of politics alone, but out of memory, emotion, history, longing, and the complicated feeling many Iranians around the world understand all too well - the feeling of carrying a homeland inside you, even when you are far away from it.

When we finally arrived in Cairo and stood before the Rifa’i Mosque, we felt overwhelmed. We had imagined this moment for years. We wanted to pay our respects. We wanted to pray. We wanted to speak the words that had stayed in our hearts for so long.

But when we arrived, the entrance to the resting place was closed due to maintenance.

Just a few steps away.

Separated only by a green-covered door.

It sounds like a small detail. Yet in that moment, it felt much bigger than a door. Standing there, unable to enter, something broke inside us. The experience suddenly became symbolic of something larger - the distance many Iranians feel from their homeland, from stability, from closure, from hope, from each other.

The closed door became a mirror.

That moment inspired the central line of the song:

“Between your history and our misery.”

The song is not only about one place or one person. It became a song about longing itself. About carrying memories across borders. About searching for connection. About wanting to feel at home again.

One line that became especially important to me while writing the song was:

“Maybe I just wanted to feel at home.”

Because in the end, I realized that this journey was never only about reaching a tomb. It was about searching for belonging.

Musically, I imagined the song as something intimate and cinematic at the same time — influenced by emotional 90s ballads, soft orchestral textures, and Persian instrumentation such as ney and daf. I wanted the production to feel like a prayer whispered into silence rather than a loud political statement.

The Farsi intro and outro were very important to me as well. They carry the private conversation that never happened:

“آمدم…

ولی نشد ببینمت…”

“I came…

but I couldn’t see you…”

In many ways, “Behind the Green Door in Cairo” became a song for everyone who has ever stood close to something they loved - yet still couldn’t reach it.

And despite the heartbreak within the song, there is still hope inside it too.

Hope through memory.

Hope through unity.

Hope that one day, all the closed doors may finally open again.

🔺0020CAI — A Musical Postcard from Egypt!

Some albums begin with a plan.

0020CAI began with curiosity.

What started as a journey through Egypt slowly turned into something much larger: a collection of stories, photographs, conversations, emotions, and unexpected moments that refused to stay inside a camera roll. They wanted to become songs.

During my travels, I visited places that many people know from history books: the pyramids, the Sphinx, ancient temples, museums filled with treasures, and the Nile River that has connected people and civilizations for thousands of years.

But what fascinated me most were not only the monuments.

It was the atmosphere.

The feeling of standing somewhere that has witnessed centuries of human dreams, victories, losses, love stories, and mysteries.

0020CAI is my attempt to capture some of that feeling through music.

The album moves between different worlds and genres. Some songs are cinematic and reflective. Others are playful, romantic, nostalgic, or simply fun. There are moments inspired by history, moments inspired by imagination, and moments inspired by ordinary encounters that unexpectedly stayed with me long after I returned home.

One evening, I found myself imagining what would happen if the mummies in Cairo's old Egyptian Museum came alive after closing time and decided to throw a dance party. That idea became Ramesses & the Mummies Dance Tonight.

Another song was inspired by the silent presence of the Sphinx, a monument that has watched generations come and go while keeping its secrets.

There are songs about Nile nights, palm trees, butterflies, kindness between strangers, hidden emotions, and the small moments that often become the memories we treasure most.

Musically, 0020CAI is intentionally diverse. I like to think of it as a non-alcoholic cocktail of styles. You will hear influences ranging from cinematic pop and storytelling ballads to upbeat dance-pop and songs with touches of Middle Eastern inspiration.

The album features twelve songs, split evenly between female and male vocals, plus an extended bonus track connected to Behind the Green Door, one of the most personal pieces on the record.

Although the songs were inspired by Egypt, this is not an album about tourism.

It is an album about wonder.

About seeing familiar things with fresh eyes.

About allowing imagination to meet history.

About finding stories where others might only see stones, buildings, rivers, or passing strangers.

Most of all, it is an album about human connection — across cultures, generations, languages, and time.

Thank you for joining me on this journey.

I hope these songs make you smile, wonder, dance, dream, and perhaps see the world around you a little differently.

Welcome to 0020CAI.

Lily Amis