Saturday August 27: 3:00 am
Istanbul

Stale coffee at Starbucks. Dig into cushion, stick feet up, and cover with a flex-fleece. Wonder where the sun is rising, what these people are doing, loitering early morning in the airport.

Drift in and out of the Beautiful and Damned. In and out of sleep, the past and the present. Open eyelids and find an empty row of seats in the International terminal. Sleep till dawn breaks into airplanes.

Watch the sky open out a bus window over the suburbs. The columns of mosques peek above the waves of the city. Men are fishing on top bridges, pigeons scatter like beer bottles dropped on concrete.

İstiklal Avenue is empty. Clenched yellow fists are painted on the boarded up storefronts. Stumble down hill and on to wide, open water.