Somewhere I lost a day. After being rescued from Ataturk Airport, I drifted in the street like a satrap exhausted by conquest of the Atlantic Ocean. I did what anyone in my position would do – showered and put on clean clothes. Everywhere I wandered, cats rested on swatches of carpet or waited in line at bank exchange machines. Could I be hallucinating? It was day, but my body said night. After the 5 o’clock ululating call to prayer that resounded throughout the streets together with an occasional car alarm, I walked to the Hippodrome from the Kybele whose ceilings are clustered in jeweled antique lamps of every color. I never made it. The shower and clean clothes didn’t have the desired effect. I succumbed to the Medecir Kebab and Pide Restaurant for a beer and salad. Back at the Kybele, ” Please place all used toilet paper in waste baskets. Thank you for your consideration.” My key to the room is none of that plastic cheesy stuff. It’s more like a brass lipstick tube.
Hello Lenore,
I hope you’re well. I just want to thank you for stopping by to read my poem published in Radius. I equally enjoyed reading your journals here. I’ve been to Istanbul for the second time this July and I understand what you’re writing about. I hope we’ll come to discuss more and exchange ideas about writing.
Kind regards
El Habib Louai
Thanks! Sounds good.
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