TE16 Turkish Delight
While Thomas is Falling I devoured my lunch. I must have been either starving or the city rush had added to the taste of the fish, because it was delicious. Iwanderedbytheseasomemore. Icontemplatedthemonumental mosque overlooking the sea, it had minarets that swept the bottoms of clouds. I couldn’t perceive if it was indeed as big as it looked. Fromthe shores of theother side, thedistance between its minarets and clouds could change. I let that thought go, though. I’m here now, and this is how it looks. So, what’s real is this now. I crossed the street separating the coastline from the rest of the city. I went into the alley right next to the mosque. Peddlers had set up shops at both sides of the road. Spices, shoes, shirts, toys, dolls, plates, balls, prayer beads, sunglasses, all sorts of street food, hats, batteries, playing cards… Everything was on display. I sat on a tiny stool in front of a suitably tiny shop that had a sign on its one window and it read: Çay Ocağı. Now, I was one of the men sitting there. They were stirring their glasses full of tea with metal spoons, each with the same rhythm. The waiter serving the tea wore a red vest similar to that of the fisherman, only without the yellow ornaments. I asked him for a tea too, and returned the sugar cubes that came with it. Still, I put the spoon inside the glass and stirred it loud, tried to match the rhythm. It seemed to be a ritual. Maybe it was that motion that made the tea taste the way it did.
The young man with a moustache sitting next to me was reading a newspaper with great attention. After a few sips, I realized that
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