I desire to know this spring. Climbing at night the hill from Taksim and Dolapdere districts to my home neighborhood Kurtuluş LAST STOP I feel the hard night wind mixed with new growth…
Cars buzz up and down past me and as I come to the bus stop, the LAST STOP of Kurtuluş, I feel a rush. Lights become lighter. Darks darker.
Şükürler olsun… Allah büyüktür. (Hallelujah… God is Great.)
From the green veins that have yet to be covered by blacktop and cement; from these veins leak out humidity and buds on newly born branches.. The smell of people rushing from broken street corners toward broader blacker horizons, alive and turgid and chaotic in this razor bazaar Istanbul.. millions of possible broken street corners and tea (çay) cafes.
Along these new spring sidewalks of Kurtulus LAST STOP I see passion beating like a heart attack victim, in this essence that is
Now
In time
And now
Nothing.
Istanbul doesn’t even care for flys, specks of dirt like us.
And here there is a peace in knowing spring.
