All quiet
Sunday morning rises
Istanbul
Hear call to prayer
Across the Golden Horn
The Valens Aqueduct
Suleymaniye, Fatih, six minarets
Penciling your silhouette
Young Pamuk had another view
From Cihangir
Over looking Üsküdar
Eminönü, Topkapi, the Blue Mosque
Under hustling Galata Bridge
A hundred fishermen compete
The fine art of fishing
“What’s for dinner tonight?”
That evening
We ate a Black Sea turbot
A flat spiky fish
Swam in rock salt
