Drink tea.
A framed and carefully labeled photo of one of the most famous revolutionary poets and influential left-wing intellectualists of Pakistan overhangs us. In the photo, Faiz Ahmad Faiz has his hand near the corner of his mouth; his fingers, weighted down by his dense thoughts, support a cigarette. His cigarette leaves grey smoke fumes suspended in a black and white capture. “He did some significant jail time, you know?” I say to my friend seated in front of me. She mutters, “Our problems are bigger.” And then in another one of our creepy insight moments, she points towards her head and I murmur, “After all the jail is in here.”