Back to the Hotel By the time I drift back toward the Pera Palace, Istanbul’s sky has sunk into velvet indigo and the Bosphorus exhales with the sharp tang of salt and iron. My camera is heavier now—the weight of images is memory pressing into my palm. Dust follows me to the hotel’s illuminated façade….

Historic grounds, coffee grounds, all grounds for a wager “Walk with me, Elena. See what the city will show a newcomer—if it chooses. But for now, finish your coffee. Old Istanbul weighs a guest’s worth in patience.” He rises, coat brushing velvet, profile softened by latticework shadow. He lets me watch him leave: uncertain, provisional….