İster misin? (📷)

I remember every crooked doorway and flagstone of this street; the way the shopkeepers would sometimes leave their ‘antique’ rugs in the road so that the cars rolling over would help to age them; I remember every one-eyed street cat yowling from the junkyard as I walked past with my dog, the man who carried water for a living but could have been a model, the sometimes rancid smell of the hamam, the view right down to Galata — some days the tower seemed closer than it should be. I remember the teyzes who would sit outside their apartments most afternoons on too-small stools, gossiping and munching on biscuits, shaking the tin at me if they caught me looking over — “ister misin?”, do you want one? They told me in Turkey you should never say no.

Alan Pedder
Öland, Sweden
Hi, I'm Alan, music nerd, hat stand and science writer for hire.