THE ISTANBUL ALBUM

4 9 R T H E I S T A N B U L A L B U M M A R K J A R M A N She’s eating her huevos rancheros and he’s showing her his pictures from this summer. It’s lovely here in his sister’s garden, and their mother can eat with her hands – the warm tortilla and egg should be easy to chew. Here is the Hagia Sofia. It was a church once. And here is St. Irene’s where the creed was hammered out. Fall is really the best time in the Midwest, spring and fall before and after hot sticky summer. And it’s September in Chicago. Here is the Spice Bazaar. That’s where he bought her a bag of floral tea. Here’s Taksim Square, the heart of the modern city. And in a year – she will be gone in a year – it will explode with raging protests over the loss of its green space. Here’s the inside of the Blue Mosque. Those tiles! It was Ramadan. People fasted all day. He asks her, ‘‘Don’t you want to finish your breakfast? But this is your favorite. That’s why we made it for you.’’ Here’s a picture of the crowds along the Hippodrome, waiting to break their fast, families, couples, groups of workers, friends, all with picnics, like the Fourth of the July. He says, ‘‘I thought you wanted to see these. I made the album for you.’’ And at evening the muezzin would signal the hour when a white thread could not be told from a black thread, although the lights were on everywhere, like a fairground, and it was marvelous. He says, ‘‘Are you finished? Do you want us to take you home?’’ A cool breeze would rise from the Bosporus and swirl among everyone like a caress, like a phenomenal blessing. ‘‘I used to sew,’’ she says. ‘‘I could thread a needle in the dark.’’ ...