Day 7-C


Different languages from as early as the 1920s. Jarret got a few maps of the Turkish Campaign for independence from 1941, Justin got a 1950s guide to nursing, and I acquired a book of love sonnets and a reading comprehension workbook that a Turkish child used to learn English. After that we loaded up the bus and headed to the small town of Birgi, where we toured a few Byzantine houses and a mansion erected around WWII. I would have taken another shot with the polaroid but I couldn’t frame the shot quite right. See, that’s what film forces you to do; rather than allowing the photographer to take 12 shots and tweak and mold them into the perfect picture, film forces him to calculate a shot, but only for a small amount of time for the moment is ephemeral. In this sense, the skill of film photography (or polaroid, in this case) is both an art and a science. My deepest apologies for that unnecessary and overly-philosophical tangent. Anyways, we also toured a mosque in this town where Tolga went into even more depth about the religion and evolution of Islam. After yet another multi-hour drive (most, of which, I slept on Jarret), we have arrived at the hotel on the beach front where we will be spending two nights before we board the yacht. 


I watched a small Turkish child,

                a girl no older than three, I’m certain,

running and skipping over the

red stripes on the pale orange carpet

covering the floor of a historical mosque.

Women were bowing their heads,

                covered in scarves,

and fervently (yet calmly)

whispering words of praise and thanks to

                Allah, who had done so much for them.

Another scarved woman,

                I assume the girl’s mother,

chased the girl and pushed out whispers to

the child, frolicking in her lacy-socked feet

over her new terrain.

I heard the woman –

                I didn’t understand her, but

                I knew what she was saying.

“Baby, come back,” she implored to the curls

                on the back of the girl’s head,

“these women are praying for their own children now

so you must keep quiet, for that is how Allah

hears them best.

“Come, babe! Be quiet and return to me.”

[ our hotel: ]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: