I moved into a new apartment: four bedrooms, four balconies, three bathrooms, kitchen, dinning room and sitting room. We are three Bangladeshi and three Americans which we aptly named the Wonderful Six Women Nest: Choy Nari Chomotkar Basha. Right now, one of our maids singing about an eggplant tree cleaning in the kitchen. Our live-in maid, who we treat as a roommate, is chopping potatoes on the floor with a special, curved Bangladeshi knife. One of my roommates is putting coconut oil in her long, black hair to keep it soft and the smells are coming from her room into the dinning room where I'm typing away. Another roommate is tuning her guitar in her room behind her bright pink and purple curtain.
And in the back, the call-to-prayer rings from the mosque around the corner, singing his sweet melody to Allah and all who love him.
I tilt back and smile, grateful. Then cough from my sickness and blow my nose, to trumpet the cacophony of sounds.