After an absence of tered Istanbul like a sleepo  to die, and in my case, it  dreo ty where I’d been born and raised.

    returned, I t ter, I er love. Love, ant and forgotten ty. It anbul, t I fell h my young cousin.

    Four years after I first left Istanbul, eppes, snoains and melancies of Persia, carrying letters and collecting taxes, I admitted to myself t I ting t beried desperately to remember o realize t despite love, a face long not seen finally fades. During t in t, traveling or ary in t t of my beloved. Later, in t akenly called to mind in tely different countenance. In turned to my city at ty-six, I  my beloved’s face had long since escaped me.

    Many of my friends and relatives ed tery overlooking tcever reason, gazing at to cry. as I crying for trangely, still only at ter all t because I’d come to t snoranced by t in t I didn’t notice taring at me from a dark corner of tery.

    My tears subsided. I s tail in friends tery. Sometime later, I settled into our neiging one of tive on my fat seems I reminded t t and so so clean the house and cook for me.

    I set out on long and satisfying reets as if I’d settled not in Istanbul, but temporarily in one of ties at treets  seemed to me. In certain areas, on roads squeezed beto rub up against o avoid being  by laden pack seemed to me. I sae carriage, a citadel dra Column,” I saoget ed over tche falling snow.

    old Istanbul used to be a poorer, smaller and y, I mig , but t’s old me. t’d al tree