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| Harem, Lodos :: 30 October 2012 |
From more or less the same spot
as a year ago, only looking in a different direction. The
lodos are blowing here, who Osman Nuri tells us blow from the
cenubu garbi, the southwest; the
lodos are blowing here, and this morning my aunt and uncle described to me one kind of havoc the winds visit upon the city: They slip down chimneys built in fear of the biting
poyraz from the north, snuff out pilot lights, lead to news stories the next day about a family –– poisoned by unburnt gas –– who died in their sleep.
But from the shore? A bright breeze, a sea like hammered tin.
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