Sunday August 28: 11:00 am
Istanbul

The Grand Bazar is empty. The stalls locked up, winding alleys silent. A boy pushes a cart, the handles towering over his temple. He hits a tall cobble stone and bounces back, giggling. He leans in, locked arms, then turns back for father’s approval. His father nods.

Buildings are falling into nothingness in the Old Town. They sit waiting for destruction. Cheek blue paint and white trim cracks into old grey brick, missing shingles like empty slots in a fifth grader’s smile.

Newsprint covers windowpanes, its pale colours fading in the sunlight. Vines inch up abandoned buildings, claiming the glassless holes as city homes to share with vermin and addicts.

A tall green room is waiting. A heavy, half open air, and a long, quiet daylight.