The sun is setting behind Rumi’s tomb, scorching the clouds on its descent, giving them fired coloured edges. The students exit the museum housing Rumi’s tomb and make their way to the side of the building, where a mini colosseum is constructed.

As midday approached, my roommate and I boarded a ferry to Büyükada, one of the nine Princes’ Islands in Turkey. She called me ‘sister’ given our shared African heritage, but only when she was happy with me; otherwise, it was ‘cousin’.

I took travel for granted. My focus was always on the end of the trip. What I would do when I met a friend, what sights I would see when I arrived, what meetings did I have to make. Being in transit was literally a means to an end. And for work I had to travel quite a lot, back and forth between New York and different countries in the Middle East and sub-Saharan Africa.