It’s my second time to be in this foreign city and still, it remains that way. In every city, however, there lies some familiarity; the way commercial buildings line up in front of you, the way tricycle drivers seem to always know where you’re heading, taking the road with utmost apathy over deep cracks and rocky roads and the way fast food greet you the same way they do in your own city. Somehow, I find comfort in seeing them, giving an artificial sense of familiarity. The language that they speak does not seem so foreign, they shout the same things and ask for the same things. Again, I find comfort in hearing them, knowing I understand these questions and statements. I find comfort in these strange routines and scenes that cities have adopted. Strange how they make me feel less alien.