The Illusion Of Being Alone

We are born together and die together, inshallah

The humble tuk-tuk, a vehicle of gread power

When I take my son in a tuk-tuk, he asks me to be his seat belt. So I put my arm around him; I hold him inside the lightly armed vehicle. And I think of myself and my father, the perennial exchange. They say ‘born alone, die alone’ but that’s a lie. We’re born surrounded by people and, inshallah, we go out the same way.