Week days I try to have a morning walk. It’s been twelve years. I park my car near the Bosphorus and walk to the shore. At the main street I make a right and walk up and down the coast. Today I made a turn to the left. This is the first day of spring and at the same time Turkey and its people are going through rough times. There is pain and fear. The weather by contrast is gorgoeus and we are totally focused on the present day.
The sea is a mind blowing blue. And the day is a perfect reason to express all sorts of cliche descriptions for Istanbul. Passed the Tarabya Hotel, I stopped in front of a building I have known since my childhood. I admired the architectural details through the reflections of the scaffolding. I saw the sign in Italian hung at the main door.
I then looked at the sculptures of the building. The beautiful wood carvings at various angles. I heard some murmuring sounds coming from this old mansion. I wondered if it is not better left like this, although this is not up to me. Maybe it risks a vocal extinction?
I wanted to kiss Istanbul on its forehead as a saying goes in Turkish. Thousands of buildings such as this or in a state of ruins are still murmuring their stories into our ears and blinking an eye on the occasional passerby. This makes our cultural memory. I felt blessed that this cradle of civilisations, Istanbul, is still lullabying its people centuries across.