‘Remember how in Ramadan the streets would be lit up with lanterns,’ I stutter, and they all look at me. ‘Don’t think about the cold. Remember how warm the bread used to be. Fresh from the bakery.’ Kenan joins in. ‘Lama. Yusuf. Remember when we used to go to the country. To Jedo’s farmhouse and pick the apricots. How I’d climb up and toss them to you, Lama. Yusuf, remember when you found that pigeon’s nest?’
