From the Commonwealth writers 'THESE IMMIGRANTS' series a short story by Nadifa Mohamed:
What does it mean when a taste floods your mouth and returns you to a time that is irrevocably lost? I walk down a tatty street crowded with vegetable displays and hanging animal carcasses and rattling pushchairs and cheap shoes, with my mind caught between the past and the present. A man singing to himself in Spanish and rolling a bike beside him overtakes me at the crossing and we acknowledge each other’s presence in silence, adjusting the distance between us in millimetre increments. He has his songs and I have my flavours. The pavement, black and glossy under the lights of the gaudy Moroccan bakery and the phone repair kiosk, deliquesces beneath me and I am just a spirit floating through London, trying to place this taste that glows green then yellow then red in my mouth.
image courtesy of the Guardian
