TE16 Turkish Delight

Mario Levi BosphorusandSuadprolongedwithinme, thefoulnessandbeauty of the streets of Şişli, the extraordinary singularity of the terrain that is Istanbul; I recall paradoxes and deferrals. It’s then that an ancient and not at all unfamiliar question arises in my mind: was it you I had loved, or the shadow of a possibility that had trailed me for years? In such a place all I could do was count minutes, only the minutes. You then appeared before me in a vestibule, in the form of a vanishing dream. I found myself wandering in the hallways of a hotel soaked in the smells of alcohol, avoidance, and loneliness, its history written in the dead night of silence. Once again I was reticent about encountering mirrors, ashamed once more of being always a prisoner to words and only words. What hallway is this, I asked myself, what room were we in just now? My gaze fixed once more on one of the mirrors. I expected that despite my inner storms I’d never receive a response from my reflection, and I won’t lie, I was rather frightened of it. It was as though I was bringing myself news of a looming threat, my impending death inside a lover. I was at a point in time difficult to determine. Had I just now emerged from this love adventure, or many, many years ago? What reflection of evasion, muteness, or nighttime did I see beforeme now? Stories and shattered mirrors. I’ve never forgotten this trope and ought never to, I said to myself then, and you seemed to consider my words to be a sort of secret pact. You waited for me at the end of the hallway in one of the dresses I had thought of buying for you, that I had pictured you wearing. My very essence was overtaken by a shudder as you said, “Christian Lacroix,” appearing to remember this small detail, and continued, “Thank you so much for everything. But if you had


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