today i had lentil soup. i sat down at a table next to an open door. i felt the cold air on my right cheek and i smiled and the action hurt my face and i remembered that i need to smile more often and i ate lentil soup.
around me there were three boys, three boys laughing in that bright British way. crooked teeth, wrinkled eyes, they know how to smile. the soup burnt my tongue and they all had heaping plates of tavuk sis (grilled chicken) and the air was cold and so we all kept our jackets on and ate. people kept walking by and staring; in kadikoy istanbul, we are the only people who speak english.
to say that this has been easy would be a lie. but to say that it is not a grand adventure would also be a lie. i open my bedroom door and step into a mystery. movement is unknown. down this alley there may be apple tea or there may be mittens; to the right there may be the sea or the straight or a mosque or a musician playing eerie twisting tunes, to the left shisha or corn or a rug or a man with bread on his head. but wherever a turn may take me, i must always remember to smile. a cracked lip, a shining eye, i must always smile.