Politics of Embroidery سیاسات
This habit is old; I collect scraps of fabric; some are picked up from random places of my travels, and others are pieces of desire. The restlessness within my heart simmers; I take a moment to breathe and let the process of healing start.
Uyghurstan سَفَرنامَہ
Compassionate and gentle eyes on which perched warm, scattered dust. Reluctantly, I uttered ‘Asalamun Alaykum (peace be upon you), which instantly connected me with two older Uyghur men outside Id Kah mosque in Kashgar.
My Mehram, ساحِل Sahil
Gazing out from the Kadıköy Sahil, the abundance of glistening water dances like a scattering of misri rocks, trickling beneath a city camouflaged in multiple life modes.
Second Class Citizen شَہْری
I stroll down the promenade in Portobello (Edinburgh) snuggled in my Chitrali woollen Chogha (overcoat), sipping on a strong flat white and listening to a track by Arooj Aftab.