Not Allowed to Show You

How long should I have remained standing in silence, waiting for answers from a man frozen in concentration as he stared at a page of words I did not understand? I had asked this local consultant for help in translating a text. Interrupting the meditation to apologize for trouble caused before swiftly departing might have been offensive, indicative of a lack of faith in this person’s willingness or ability to decipher the blurred script. A compromise became possible when the reader looked up as another matter called his attention, allowing me to express gratitude and leave.
I do not yet have the wanted details. This much I do know:
The 11th-century text is in Arabic, covering two pages of an open book depicted on the front of a plastic file supplied by my bank for storing monthly statements. The other recognizable object on the file cover is a scrap of papyrus with hieroglyphics running horizontally across the fragment, suggestive in form of a rimless high hat with a commanding lower V which would run across a forehead down to mid-nose. I read neither Arabic nor hieroglyphics, so I called the bank to request a translation, and was informed that the Arabic text is from the 11th-century Egyptian mathematician Ibn al-Milli. Employed as a Customs Official in Alexandria, he hoped to be succeeded by his son Mohammed and wrote a textbook dealing with the math-related aspects of Customs work, such as calculating foreign exchange rates. The hieroglyphics on the papyrus scrap - not a hat at all, but apparently used as legal tender - would take longer to translate, but the Communications Department has promised to get back to me on this one. I requested permission to display close-ups of these graceful texts as they appear on my plastic file, but the bank said no.