“One cannot live on love alone,” my dad told me after I decided to immigrate to the city I loved to stay with the man I would marry. Attempting to fit in, I bought myself a pair of bike shoes, but I bought them too small with a weak working grasp of English. I found a job in a place I had dreamed of working—a magazine company—in the position of cleaner. My too-small, baby-blue bike shoes became my first pair of work shoes. At first, they were painful for days, but they proved to be as malleable as my dreams as time went by.