‘So, Amar, you live with a white man?’ says Zeynab, leaning in over the coffee table, as if taking me into her confidence for a private chat, never mind that there are three other people privy to our conversation and a coffee shop full of people around us. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ she says, and laughs. ‘I don’t think I could. They don’t wash their bums when they go to the loo!’
she kinda ate here
