In the dimly lit room, the art workshops were more than just about crafting masterpieces; they were a fusion of souls and stories. Adil, with his rich tapestry of experiences, melded effortlessly with women of different backgrounds, creating a non-hierarchical dance of creativity.

The laughter of Pakistani uncles, a boisterous and unabated joy, shakes the room's very foundations. It feels like a serenade, echoing tales of old cities and ancient gatherings. As they drink their chai, the rich aroma of the brew mingles with that of tobacco.

On those rare Saturday mornings when Ami has the day off, I cherish our breakfasts together, even as someone in his late 30s.

I am a performer on the world's stage, my healing a charade, my peace a treacherous entity. Yet, I dance in the world's mirror, taking my seat before the portal of Zoom, plunging myself back into the abyss of ego.

Enshrined in my memory are the Chinar trees, an endangered species that exudes a sense of majesty and extravagance. I recall my first meeting with these giants in 2011 at the Mountain Inn guesthouse.

In an era defined by uncertainty, identity politics, and the shifting sands of global power, the concept of Khudi - selfhood - espoused by the celebrated philosopher and poet Allama Iqbal, offers a powerful and prescient vision for navigating the complexities of the world.

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.

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.

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.

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.