For my mother, caviar was not a luxury food, but a standard. Those blue-stacked, neatly-dressed tins sitting in abundance were universally adored in her time of strife. “Caviar was not a delicacy but a way of life in Azerbaijan,” my mother would explain.
It takes the federal government six years and two months to build the mosque on Momo Drive. The call to prayer sounds for the first time on the seventh of June, an hour before sunrise, in a low, throaty cadence that cuts across the dark. Under lamplight, the building’s white dome gleams like polished limestone.