One More Folded Sunset

Boat to Arnavutköy

One, a photo of tea against a field of red; here, something to give shape to the sky. I took this photo as the boat pulled away from Çengelköy on the Anatolian shore towards Arnavutköy. By this point, most everyone had disembarked and the ferry felt almost as though the last colors of the evening were echoing about. Or maybe better, as the color drained from the sky, so too the tea.

The post's title comes from an Elizabeth Bishop poem, "Questions of Travel." Here it is in a little more context:

Think of the long trip home.
Should we have stayed at home and thought of here?
Where should we be today?
Is it right to be watching strangers in a play
in this strangest of theatres?
What childishness is it that while there's a breath of life
in our bodies, we are determined to rush
to see the sun the other way around?
The tiniest green hummingbird in the world?
To stare at some inexplicable old stonework,
inexplicable and impenetrable,
at any view,
instantly seen and always delightful?
Oh, must we dream our dreams
and have them, too?
And have we room
for one more folded sunset, still quite warm?