After rescuing my bag from a near solo-trip to Finland, I came home to Istanbul this frigid morning to discover my apartment had transformed itself into an icebox. No electricity, no heat, no hot water. I decided to visit my mum— she's got coffee and a hot shower, which I so desperately need. Having travelled for thirteen or fourteen hours, and after fiercely negotiating with an apathetic man muttering into a walkie-talkie, to please just have one more look for my missing bag, I am ready to crawl into a bed. My body is sore and my mind is dull, but I have these lovely pictures to remind me of pretty days in the warmth, when the sound of the sea washed away worry, and the act of getting from Ho Chi Minh City to Istanbul was a very distant thought.
I'll write more when I locate my brain, which I suspect is somewhere over Pakistan.