Gate Of Karama – A Daily Detour

Cruising the streets of Karama in our low-slung car, blacked out windows half rolled down, ghetto air blowing through our hair, Bombay Vikings pulsates as the car screeches to a deliberate halt. A sharp toot is sounded, sunglasses are lowered; eye contact is made and flashing the victory sign, a man with bum fuzz appears almost immediately. Two steaming styrofoam cups are delivered in silence, and dropping a coin in the tray, the car jolts forward as the acceleration is thrust flooring the vehicle taking a sharp turn narrowly missing ramming into a bus and a oblivious pedestrian.


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