Margaret is a beautiful 19-year-old American with black hair, a big smile and a bare midriff. Born in Chicago, Illinois, she was adopted and is searching for her biological relatives.
I study the photograph of a striking young woman with the upper arm tattoo and Greek surname, hand on her hip, casually braced, in maroon and black, against a white block wall in the Windy City. Thinking when I last tottered, dizzy, atop the 110-storey Sears Tower in 1994, on a cold, gloomy day, I had gasped in awe at the stunning panoramic views from the then tallest building in the world. Now, I wonder about her story, and whether she too was blown away on her first visit to the landmark sleek skyscraper with its innovative multi-tubular design developed by the Bengali-born visionary structural engineer and architect, Fazlur Rahman Khan.
We share similar high cheekbones, bold brows and more than an uncanny resemblance, including what my late father would have described as a strong sapodilla skin tone. Yet, I do not believe Margaret has ever slurped a single, sweet specimen of Manilkara zapota, among my favourites, derived from the Nahuatl word for the naseberry family of soft, edible fruits, “tzapotl,” the syrupy juices streaming down the sides of the mouth to settle into a sticky mess on the neck and chest.
