Mornings in Mumbai were surprisingly peaceful; the sun slowly rising behind an overcast sky, while men meditated by the turbulent seas.
The beckoning Gothic architecture of Victoria Terminus (now known as Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus), and the inner chaos that ensued as men and women jumped on and off trains.
The taxi driver who drove us to his friend’s shop rather than Crawford Market, finally finding the market, and bargaining with enthusiastic vendors.
Being the only one in the maidan, serenly tucked away behind the Bombay High Court.
Making friends in Navi Mumbai, listening as they played the most beautiful song I have ever heard, eating cross-legged on the floor, meeting foreign volunteers, taking my first rickshaw ride, and then travelling by train at midnight.
I’d go back in a heartbeat.