In the afternoon, I pass across the Golden Horn—the waterway that splits the European side of Istanbul in half—past the fishermen lined up on the bridge, all vying to catch the small fish passing through. On the other side, I drift through shadowed passageways where vendors sell nuts, deserts and spices, ranging in color from pastel white to auburn red and chestnut brown. The pathways are crowded and smoky, and light filters through the makeshift roofs, shining in our eyes. It’s a mess, and I’m glad when I’m out. After climbing up several roads—unsure of where I’m going, I finally arrive at a lovely mosque. A place of solace.
