It 's a little bit that I do not write .. and how many things have happened this month .. two on all Istanbul and adult life, the real one, the one where if you mess up you pay, and dearly.
Istanbul is a wonderful city, and will not be what I am writing to tell more of the magic that you know, so I will just say what's in Istanbul I loved, loved too commonplace to say: first of all the poetry of a city where West and East are not only neighbors, but merged. It may happen to be a literary cafe to read a book as any to look like a Parisian in a neighborhood on the Left Bank, while outside you can hear the beautiful call to prayer from the minarets and soaring in the sky .. and it looks East, Arab turkish, Ottoman, European and Asian.
Grace mosque blue and pink, the depth of the eyes behind the veil of Muslim women, intense, profound culture that comes from afar and is steeped in spirituality, faith, trust that there is something more than the material from pigs that there remained in the West .. and then the smells of the bazaars, in which we excite two thousand years of merchants, ships laden with spices, Egyptian and Indian, Pakistani smells of incense and ancient Venetian galleys, while sailing the beautiful sea of \u200b\u200bhalf an Italy that also bathes old but always wound .. and you almost want to cry seeing that such a world still exists. Istanbul left my heart in my throat for its sunsets over the Bosporus for its colors of the sea, for its cuisine and its strong intense music .. Istanbul is there, but even more excited to live with those we love most of all art in the world, the only reason why it's worth crossing a continent hungry for one of her intense eyes as the sun sets in Sirkeci .
Then return, and again the strange life of this African period: the late dry season of one month and the villages that lose their crop of tef, the threat of famine ever closer and the sudden blazing sun that burns all .. and then the promotion, the true and authentic, but also wanted feared that confronts a responsibility to myself that I did not realize. I must make use of all my chameleonic ability to believe that we can tackle the challenges impossible to survive here .. and tell myself that I could do it.
Istanbul is a wonderful city, and will not be what I am writing to tell more of the magic that you know, so I will just say what's in Istanbul I loved, loved too commonplace to say: first of all the poetry of a city where West and East are not only neighbors, but merged. It may happen to be a literary cafe to read a book as any to look like a Parisian in a neighborhood on the Left Bank, while outside you can hear the beautiful call to prayer from the minarets and soaring in the sky .. and it looks East, Arab turkish, Ottoman, European and Asian.
Grace mosque blue and pink, the depth of the eyes behind the veil of Muslim women, intense, profound culture that comes from afar and is steeped in spirituality, faith, trust that there is something more than the material from pigs that there remained in the West .. and then the smells of the bazaars, in which we excite two thousand years of merchants, ships laden with spices, Egyptian and Indian, Pakistani smells of incense and ancient Venetian galleys, while sailing the beautiful sea of \u200b\u200bhalf an Italy that also bathes old but always wound .. and you almost want to cry seeing that such a world still exists. Istanbul left my heart in my throat for its sunsets over the Bosporus for its colors of the sea, for its cuisine and its strong intense music .. Istanbul is there, but even more excited to live with those we love most of all art in the world, the only reason why it's worth crossing a continent hungry for one of her intense eyes as the sun sets in Sirkeci .
Then return, and again the strange life of this African period: the late dry season of one month and the villages that lose their crop of tef, the threat of famine ever closer and the sudden blazing sun that burns all .. and then the promotion, the true and authentic, but also wanted feared that confronts a responsibility to myself that I did not realize. I must make use of all my chameleonic ability to believe that we can tackle the challenges impossible to survive here .. and tell myself that I could do it.
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