thirty-two degrees

I saw on a digital display somewhere today that it was 32ºC— that's 89.6ºF to my American friends. It's hot and sticky, especially when you are dependent on public transport. Nothing is stickier and stinkier than a minibus ride in summertime rush-hour traffic. You are pushed and bumped and pulled into odd spaces between other peoples' bodies to fill up any available space. There are days when I feel compelled to throw myself into the Bosphorus to cool down.

It's a thought.