From the heart

There are many things I hate, but there are more things I love. I love Mango juice. I love the stories my grandmother tells. I love the taste of warm fresh milk with a little sugar. I love the laughter of my little cousins. I love the morning cold when waking up on the countryside. I love the feeling of success when mosquitoes get in touch with my electric bat. I love hanging out with my cousins, when we make fun of each other. I love the love I am given. I love the glow on the face of street kids, when taking pictures of them. I love cracking jokes while being stuck in traffic. I love paying 15 instead of 20 Taka for a Rickshaw ride. I love rice with vegetable bhaji and daal. I love the clear night sky, stars and glow worms. I love that I am able to call any umfamiliar person uncle, aunty, brother or sister. I love hanging out on rooftops. I love nonsense conversations on the bus. I love 30 Cent haircuts. I love fresh food. I love people not caring what brand their clothes are. I love lying on a wooden boat in between rice fields. I love being able to swear in Bangla. I love telling people, when they ask me whether I am from England, that I am from London. I love talking on the phone with my family in Germany. I love to bargain. I love to shower after a long bus ride. I love when the sun turns red over the green fields. I love being in a Bangladeshi sweetmeat and not being able to decide what items to pick. I love seeing a sleeping baby in the arms of its mother. I love going back to Hamburg.