The Maulana bends down at the washbasin and draws water to his face.
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The tourists are gone. They’ve fled to Islamabad, along with the landlords and the hoteliers and the battalions of police that used to defend them, and certainty has left with them.
The Maulana bends down at the washbasin and draws water to his face.
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‘I think there should be a National Service of Hospitality. The best way to see the true face of humanity is to serve it a plate of chips.’
Camilla Grudova on bad-mannered customers.
‘Anyone who has ever worked night shifts will understand the vertiginous feeling that comes with staring down the day from the wrong end.’
A.K. Blakemore on working nights.
‘I was constantly reading job ads, trying to find my holy grail – a job I could stand to do, and someone foolish enough to hire me.’
Sandra Newman on learning how to play professional blackjack.
‘I loved being a receptionist. What I loved about it was playing the part of being a receptionist.’
Emily Berry on being a temporary office worker.
‘Every part of you would swell, including your eyeballs, and no matter how much water you drank, you were always dehydrated.’
Junot Díaz on working for a steel mill.
Fatima Bhutto was born in Kabul, Afghanistan, and grew up in Syria and Pakistan. Her most recent writing includes the novel The Runaways and a non-fiction book about the changing world of global pop culture, New Kings of the World.
Photograph © Pankaj Mishra
‘In a connected world, how can anyone close their doors?’
‘Though I have had dogs all my life, Coco is my first real companion.’
Fatima Bhutto on grief.
‘I have gone to the forest to lie among the moss and sleep under a canopy of trees. I have gone to the forest to root among the soil and listen to the birds.’
‘If you happen to be friends with one of the world’s most fearsome food critics, don’t cook for him.’
‘Twenty-five years after his death, His Imperial Majesty, King of Kings, Elect of God, Defender of the Faith,was finally being laid to rest, though they still could not be certain how he met his end.’
John Ryle attends the funeral of Haile Sellasie.
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