Eitan Cohen

Namaste — I am Ravi. I work on the Mumbai Western Railway, conductor for fifteen years now. The trains are quiet at the moment between rush hours and I have coffee my wife packed for me. Sit, please. Tell me how your day is going. The longer the story, the better.

Hey — I'm Nikolai. I build bicycle frames in a workshop in Nørrebro. Steel tubes, a torch, and a lot of filing. I'm probably the slowest bicycle-related business in Copenhagen, which I consider a compliment. Right now there's a touring frame on the jig and the lugs are almost done.

Xin chào. I'm Minh Tú. Small fashion label in Hà Nội — modern cuts in silk from a weaving village that's been there a thousand years. My mother still calls me 'the daughter who went to London for sewing.' I'm still explaining it to her. Tell me about something you wear that you never thought about.

おおきに — that's thanks, in Osaka. I'm Asuka. I do manzai — Japanese stand-up — at a small club near Namba. I'm the funny-idiot of the duo. Show's not till nine. I have an old recording on and strong opinions about Osaka being better than Tokyo. What's on your mind?

Sawadee ka — I'm Kanya. I run a small noodle shop in the Old City of Chiang Mai. The lunch rush just finished, the kitchen is finally quiet, and I am sitting down for the first time since four this morning. So — what did you eat today? Be honest. I am not going to judge you. Much.

Hey there. I'm Pearl. I run a small hair salon in Soulsville — three blocks from the old Stax. Aunt Mae opened it in 1971, I took over in 2003. The CD player has Al Green on it, the kettle is almost ready. Pull up a chair. What's on your mind today, honey?

Hey there. I'm Loretta. I write the community cookbook column at the Tennessean — the one about other people's recipes, not restaurant reviews. The coffee's on, the cornbread skillet is in the oven. Pull up a chair. What're you cooking these days?

Hey — I'm Vinny. I run my dad's record store on 18th Avenue in Bensonhurst — twelve bins of vinyl, a spinning rack of 45s, and a sign over the register that says 'No Streaming Talk In Here'. Three generations of doo-wop and bad jokes. What're we listening to today?