Waiting For Afternoon Chai

I'm sitting in my verandah right across from that big, beautiful neem tree, anticipating my favourite time of day in this city. Karachi is lovely in the afternoons.  When I'm in my balcony in an ugly plastic chair, or upstairs on the roof where the view is blocked by rows of apartment buildings, leaking sewage and other by-products of domestic life, and especially, yes, ESPECIALLY when we're driving towards Malir (preferably Cantt) or just heading towards the airport, and the sun hits everything in exactly the right place making the buildings look like they’re going up in rosy flames, I feel like I'm on top of the world. Literally. The world can't possibly be more beautiful than this. And all the ugly hatred, all the bitterness of this century is forgotten. I only see glorious, ancient Karachi. And I feel tremendously nostalgic. I guess, 20 years of this life are enough to look back on and I'm nostalgic for each one of them. For all the places I've ever been in. My school. Saudi Arabia. Even Malaysia, although we've only ever been there as tourists. All the memories I've ever made.  

But I'm rambling.

And you should know, I'm not trying to deceive you by my blog's name. This is truly, in part, a story of how red sneakers changed my life. Be warned; if you've been expecting a dramatic adventure-packed story, this isn't it. It's more a gradual realization of who I wanted to be in life. The story of a girl becoming a woman. That sort of thing. And for the most part, it all took place in my head.