Through the Looking Glass

Today, Dhaka knew what I needed before I did. And gave it to me without reservation.

Sitting on a Fendi couch – green tea in exquisite china – a private collection of Picasso, Matisse, Rembrandt, Dali, Mr Brainwash, and so many others.

I barely knew where I was. I’m talking quietly about modern art and other wondrous things.

Surely this isn’t Dhaka? It can’t be.

It was hard to leave – I already crave an invitation to return.   I’m in awe of the people who spend their days in this magical place.

I’m happier knowing that behind that big gate in Gulshan are some most remarkable things.

And in true Dhaka fashion, I take a rickshaw through the dirty, crowded streets to my home.

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