The call to prayer split the early morning haze, bringing the faithful out of their beds and to their knees to worship. People like I do not pray, at least not to the Islam god. I opened the doors to the balcony and studied the sight before me. The smells that met Me were a mixture of strong coffee, strong tea, spices, dirt and sea. It was sweet, dank, salty, moist, hot, and pungent. All the while holding within it the scent of a promise of a new shopping excursion to find Myself My first Turkish trinket.
I stepped out into the already crowded street, only to find Myself besieged upon by the Street Vendors. They will approach anyone whom they know are not Turkish. They are annoying to say the least. I told the first one loud and clear, I’m not buying anything from someone who smells like they live in a shit hole. He made a face and scurried away. I am pretty sure he said some not so nice things about Me, but I really do not care. Almost shoulder to shoulder with the crowd I made My way to the Grand Bazaar. It was still early, so I decided to lean against a wall to hone in on any potential trinkets.
As the noise and crowd grew larger and louder I found Myself at a disadvantage. There were just to many people around to pick out one. I was sorely disappointed, until I remembered that a trip to Aya Sofia just might be the place to find what I was in search of. Knowing that the driving situation in Istanbul is horrid, I walked. I took in all the sites there were. Dark eyes looked at Me atop veils placed over women’s faces, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by this. Why should a woman cover up what is their beauty? Not that it matters anyway, these people mean nothing to Me. I opened the door to Aya Sofia and instantly it stopped Me dead.
The early morning sun was streaming through the windows, casting magnificent colors upon the floor. This was a Masterpiece, true, peaceful beauty, and then I saw My trinket. She was gazing up at the dome, taking in all that it offered. She was not paying attention to anything around her. I stepped toward her and made small talk. She explained to Me that this was the first time for her being in the city. I asked her if she would like to join Me in My wanderings. She accepted.
The sun is now setting over the city of Istanbul. I can hear the chattering of the people below, as they make their way home, or out to enjoy the night. I open up the doors to My balcony, allowing the pungent smells to waft their way into the room. I look down at the bed. The sheets are no longer there, they have been wrapped around My trinket. She was so trusting, so naive, so willing to try. She failed. Now, as I stand here, watching the hot sun dip below the horizon, I can only wonder, if the same orange, yellow glow is making the blood upon my skin look just as breath taking as sunset which is painting the sky.
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