Hot Pink in the City
“Sitting on orange and yellow chairs and staring at multiple surfaces covered in graffiti, I jostle against Nasreen and Uncle, who reads The New York Times. His fingers are inky from reading newspapers all day. News is his crack-cocaine, what with his newspapers and shortwave radio. We've been fortunate that in the past few evenings he's either been visiting friends or listening to international news on his radio. Maybe he forgot about Umm, or perhaps I overestimated how much he likes her.
"When... we get home it'll be late," he says, putting his newspaper in his lap. He smoothes his moustache and yawns.
"Well, we don't have to be making this trip," Nasreen says, barely audible above the chugging wheels of the train "I'd like to watch TV," I say. Nasreen pokes me in the ribs and I yelp. "I mean, I can't wait to watch TV in the morning, because when we get home it'll be bedtime." "Yes, we'll all be tired tonight, but before I sleep I'd like to listen to some Umm Kulthum. I only have one complete tape of her beautiful voice.MoreLess
"When... we get home it'll be late," he says, putting his newspaper in his lap. He smoothes his moustache and yawns.
"Well, we don't have to be making this trip," Nasreen says, barely audible above the chugging wheels of the train "I'd like to watch TV," I say. Nasreen pokes me in the ribs and I yelp. "I mean, I can't wait to watch TV in the morning, because when we get home it'll be bedtime." "Yes, we'll all be tired tonight, but before I sleep I'd like to listen to some Umm Kulthum. I only have one complete tape of her beautiful voice.MoreLess
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