Leaving

I’m sitting up at 2:30 at night, on the couch with my feet up. I was working on a project for fun on the computer, listening to music, but was stopped by my thoughts. What I can see stole my attention, in that way that occurs when something is finishing. The streetlight through the window, this room. Living here is ending. Another room, with someone in it right now probably, will soon be what I consider home, and where I will feel safe. People and our spaces and our elaborate minds.

This place is home. It’s idiosyncracies will be a story and a laugh one day. I will look at another window in the middle of the night. This year will seem imaginary. It already does in some ways.

It is our home for one more week, and we have too much to do. These thoughts will give way to readying. We will leave.

Meanwhile, some photos.



Our friend Oktay on the left. Every Friday night at a bar on Istiklal.


Leaving the house usually means talking to the kids for a minute. Right outside our door with a few of the older kids.


Up the hill and over from our neighborhood. You can just make out a Roman Aquaduct in the background.



Galata Bridge, looking up the Golden Horn, towards our district.