We had a week in the city of many names. A place forever changing yet timeless in its rhythm of life. There was only the echo of ricochet from recent violence; tourist areas seemed quieter and anxiety had cast it’s shadow over happy souls. But the local neighbourhoods still hummed with humans and it seemed impossible to stay still, to resist the movement around us and so we wandered and fuelled ourselves with sticky sweetness. There were things we had to do, to replace and buy, but lassitude seized us and they slipped – unnecessary after all. Words went unwritten, but images speak.

Hills, lots of really steep hills

We walked out of our front door to find a market had popped up overnight.

Cats are treated with an Egyptian-like reverence. From security guards providing cups of water to little boys sharing their kebaps, this is a good place to be a kitty!

As if nothing ever happened…

The end of the unfinished motorway, which was our unintended route into the city.

These helpful guys helped us find our way when we got lost in the windy labyrinth. They went slowly on their scooter as we puffed up the hills behind.

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L.H – The beautiful complexity of culture.

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Women in Turkey at times seem to occupy the shadows. L.H

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