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Saeed and Nadia emerged from the door and found themselves in a house so foreign that they couldn't figure out where they are even after they toured the house. They sat at the kitchen table, reluctant to touch anything that doesn't belong to them, albeit starving. Finally they made themselves some tea and took some sugar from the cupboard. More people show up from upstairs, Nigerians, Somalis, etc. Some left straight away, while others stay to claim a room of their sovereignty. Nadia and Saeed, too, settle in a back bedroom. Nadia took a shower, the dreamy ambience of a bathroom filled with steam makes her overjoy. The cleanse of grime, blood and dirty clothes set her on the course of a near rebirth. Saeed, guarding the door for too long, snapped at her but later found an equal amount of satisfaction and joy when he took the bath himself. Like any other couples in the middle of some kind of fight, they go to sleep both in a sulky and apologetic mood.
"What she was doing, what she had just done, was for her not about frivolity, it was about the essential, about being human, living as a human being, reminding oneself of what one was, and so it mattered, and if necessary was worth a fight."