To say that winter is bleak in Istanbul, is an understatement. It is downright depressing. The sky is grey, the city is grey, the people are grey. I used to find a poetry in the mournfulness, in the huzun, but currently, I am in a terrible state of unrest. My toes can't seem to warm, there's a rattle in my chest, and the grumpiness of the people on the street is souring my mood. A few days ago, it was nearly spring weather— so warm in fact, that crocuses popped up their heads towards the pale sun. We have since descended back into that wet, bone-chilling gloom, and there is an inexplicable amount of mud.
What else can you do but wait?
Wait, and have another çay.
6 comments:
Take a white sheet of paper and a box of colors, you know what I mean. Marco
You are absolutely right, Marco!
and come and visit sunny Oman.
You know, Sue, I might just do that ;)
Grey can be so challenging and colourful to paint!
I am a girl from Greece, and I follow your blog. You are such an inspiration.
I'd love to come to this city one day, and I'll make sure I'll sketch more than I photograph when I do!
Thank you so much for your kind words.
I hope you do come to Istanbul one day-- spring time is the best, but you are right, greyness can be colourful too!
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