I bike to the train in a culturally diverse neighborhood in Amsterdam.
A Middle-Eastern-looking man asks for help.
He speaks broken Dutch.
I pause for a moment.
He is on the phone and is holding an old bike.
His phone isn't a smart one but looks like an old Nokia.
I get scenes from movies in my head.
What's happening here?
He asks me to help him pronounce the letters on the number plate of a car.
He tries to give me the phone.
I step back. Wait a minute!
I will do it out loud I say.
I spell the letters.
He thanks me.
I ask him if he is Turkish.
He says 'Thank God I am not'.
It hits me because I am Turkish.
It hits me one more time because I wanted something back in return.