I did not grow up with the Indian Partition or the Palestinian Nakbah.The stories related to these events were not my stories. The first time I heard about Partition in detail must have been from my Pakistani friend Aisha when studying at Rijksakademie in 2001, in Amsterdam. She shared tales of her grandparents who, before Partition, had lived in a mansion as big as the former army barracks, which is now the Rijksakademie. The memory of her grandparents seemed to define her in some way, evoking vivid images of tiled floors and old aunts wearing fresh motiya flowers in their ears. In the years I lived in Pakistan (2003–2007), the idea of Partition became more tangible. Stories linked to places I visited. Places gained meaning. The stories made me look at the places differently.