Istanbul Cabin lights flicker; I jolt awake. Descent has begun. Outside, the sky bruises itself into day: bars of pink, slashes of blue, and new gold. My hand drifts to Asdar’s note—a nervous relic, its shape bitten into my palm—as the city unfurls below, vast and split by water and empire. IST is fever-bright, sharp-edged….
Tag: anthropological-fiction
The COMC Files: Flash-back&forth
The Visitor Spring in London is a redrawing of boundaries. Green creeps up the ancient plane trees in Regent’s Park, daffodils thick in the shadier corners. I move through it all half-ghost, hands clasped behind my back, ignoring my vibrating phone, stopping to watch the dogs or ferrying trays of coffee back to my armchair…
The COMC Files: Update
London, when the cab spits me out by my townhouse, is grey and humid, the air smelling of diesel, toast, and river. My feet strike the pavement with purpose, but there’s a tremor beneath every step: exhaustion, awe, the shock of clocks resuming. I unlock the door, inhale the familiar scent of home—old books, ground…
The C.O.M.C. Files 