The cold weather here in Istanbul seems to have thickened my literary sap and while the content is rich…the flow has tapered to the occasional drip. We hope to bore deeper this week and find a vein to tap. In the interim, it really isn’t all that cold outside (40 degrees F), and yet the snow is falling heavy in Kosuyolu, disappearing as it hits the ground.
From The Igloo
I am stubbornly refusing to capitulate access to my balcony office and am paying a “weathering” tariff for my obstinacy. In need of a compositional “by-pass”, I have spent the last few weeks with Turks who have plied me with pastries, leveraged me with laughter, and whacked me with wit. Istanbul seems to have a cure for all that ails.