• June 12th, 2012

    There was a time when I’d only read of the scent of Jasmine. Now I’m familiar with its deep, candy sweetness. There was a time I didn’t know its white, five-bladed blossom. I knew it twined about fences and gates, and overhung stone walls, dousing the air with a scent favored by Persian poets. But I never knew about the thick coils of razor wire it concealed beneath.

    Istanbul, you’re a mistress of many secrets, aren’t you?


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