As my day of departure from Pakistan comes closer, my senses seem to work extra special. My nose now smells that hint of familiarity in the damp foggy air here, my ears fall in love with each roar of the fast car in the streets and that brrrr!ttt! of silencer-less motor bikes, my eyes seem to find every person smiling and oh those...
Growing up I have cried a lot, (yes, I still do) mostly holding my pillow when everyone would sleep, behind the curtain so mom wont see and question, under the blanket where my heart would be breaking and yes in my fathers arms sobbing like a little girl with nothing but a broken heart. My pillow, curtain or blanket never responded but my...