Katak, my hometown. My cage, my hideout, my refuge. The dilapidated ruins of the Barabati fort, the dirt and dust of the streets, the chaos, the traffic, and the confusion of Katak cloak my thoughts in the sweet end-of-empire melancholy of my 1000-year old town and the indomitable will to live of the people affirms what I have always believed. My destiny is bound to this place, it is me. As for the animals on the street, they too, are welcome. Their indifference to human histories and fantasy, and their daily, objective presence adds weight to our lives in a way someone from a grander city might never understand. The muddy sidewalks, the sleepy river, the stolen smiles, the raucous laughter, the thwarted desires: how did you, my city, come to colour my dreams?