Those backstreets that Orhan Pamuk so loves in his native Istanbul.
The sun was hiding behind the clouds.
I was feeling lonesome on my solo trip.
The Golden Horn was not far away.
I could hear the ferry boats.
But it was too overcast to photograph the beautiful waterway.
I was glad to be in the old city, but far from the tourist throngs around Topkapi, Ayasofya and SultanAhmet Mosque.
I was kind of pondering what it's all about.
I felt so privileged to be in the cultural capital of Europe.
I aimed that camera at yet another faded old apartment building in Balat.
Back home in Miami, I looked at the 8,000 digital images captured in 10 GB of data.
I had no idea there was a person in the window of the building I aimed my Nikon at.
Looks like my kindred spirit in fabled Istanbul may have been taking pause to think about the meaning of life.
Just like me.
For the record, I didn't figure out what the meaning is.
But I learned a lot about people that are supposed to be very different.
But were just like me.
Though perhaps nicer and more hospitable than the typical rushed member of the western world.
