A promise of fading light and cooling mercury…
Read MoreImagine the chaos of the first few years: Romanian, German and English mixed together in a way that it took us sometimes minutes to realize what exactly it was that our own children were trying to tell us…
Read MoreOn the silted shores of that Kashmiri lake from my childhood - my shoes slowly ruining in the slush of snow, mud and plum blossoms - I stood beside the houseboat we were staying in (which once hosted Henry Kissinger). That was the month Indira Gandhi was voted out and my whole family got stuck in India.
Read MoreSid, my Aussie partner, sputtered over his coffee. Then he looked straight into my eyes and said decisively, “No, it doesn’t. Nothing looks like your damn Mumbai”...
Read MoreI hear Sappho’s Train de Paris and I remember Garde du Nord, waiting to take the TGV in Holland, Belgium or Brittany. Abidjan's songs reminds me of an Arab market in Vienna’s Mitt Bahnhof area...
Read MoreI listen to The Metro and I think of how guilty I felt buying Hitler era stamps in a small shop in Vienna’s Mitt Banhoff subway station arcade and how I had to use those auto stamp machines to get to the train...
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